


Abbey Cats, Alley Cats

by Fuuma_san



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Multi-Era, Nesting, No animals were harmed in this fic and they all get happy endings, Nudity, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), There's a demon loose in IKEA, Wing Grooming, for real though not the jousting restaurant, kitties, medieval times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuuma_san/pseuds/Fuuma_san
Summary: Crowley crooked a smile, “Who's your friend?”Aziraphale blinked, and felt his brow furrow. “I don’t have any friends.”A look of hurt ghosted across Crowley's face, and the frown returned. He pointed to Aziraphale’s lap “She looks rather friendly, nevertheless.”“Oh! The cat. It’s a cat. It’s here to remove vermin from the books.”--------------------------Aziraphale has encounters with several cats over the ages who help care for his books and keep him company. At first he ignores and takes their presence for granted, but he learns to appreciate them and gradually, they bring him closer and closer to his demon, until Aziraphale realizes what he really wants. So Aziraphale hatches plans to get it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 190
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens, Kitty Cat Fics





	1. Hats on Cats

When he first heard he was being assigned to a promising scriptorium with orders to support their prosperity and expansion, Aziraphale had been excited. All those lovely books! 

But then he had arrived at the _cloistered monastery_ , its crumbling brick and sucking mud pathways welcoming him with a stubbed toe and by stealing one of his shoes, and things didn’t really improve after that. It rained almost constantly, so to protect the books of it’s admittedly large scriptorium, they were all locked up and only the three senior monks were allowed inside. Clearly it had been doing better at some point in history, since the abbey had room for hundreds of residents, but now, their numbers barely broke double digits. Thank goodness he could read latin and had precise calligraphy, because he was allowed to skip the hard laborious chores they made new recruits do, and immediately got to have a private room where he copied the bible over and over and _over_ , for three years. 

Oh and the food. It was so bland and yet, the monks ate it over and over for every meal. It took a miracle to permanently convince everyone that he always already just eaten, and so never needed a portion. He hadn’t even had anything to drink in so very long, as the offerings here amounted to cold well water and warm well water. Sometimes he would find himself staring into space, dreaming of a good cup of tea. He had standards, and his life here fulfilled none of them.

Finally, the senior monks decided he’d proved his value and allowed him full access to the scriptorium, tasking him with copying progressively more rare and fragile texts. That had remarkably improved the experience, and nowadays he rarely bothered leaving the depths of the scriptorium. The rare times he did he noted the progress towards prosperity the monastery was making with pride. 

What was once crumbling was slowly being restored, and the abbey seemed nearly half full now with fresh monks. He had been asked to teach some of the new recruits at one point, but he had little patience for their hideous calligraphy, and he wasn’t tasked with it again, but every now and again a new face joined them in the scriptorium. The days spent indoors still blurred together for Aziraphale, marked only by the comings and goings of the other monks and the need to light or snuff candles. The monastery also employed several cats, tasked with keeping vermin from eating the manuscripts, and one in particular had taken a shine to Aziraphale. This particular cat spent much of each day and all of the cold nights cuddled up against his thigh.

“Who's your friend?”

Aziraphale jumped, smudging the “K” he’d been writing and spattering a few drops across the page. He frowned at it, hard, and the page was so ashamed the misplaced ink rolled safely off and onto the floor. Book saved, he looked around for who had spoken. Lounging in the doorway wearing a fine black tailored tunic covered in some intricate red embroidery and black leggings was his demon, showing off his lovely calves.

“Crowley! What are you doing here?” Crowley was frowning, though Aziraphale couldn’t tell exactly where he was directing it, since his eyes were hidden behind dark lenses. Was Crowley frowning at him? The smile Aziraphale had blossomed withered instead. 

“I’ve been sent to jam up the works at this monastery, since the _good word_ has been flooding out of here and downstairs isn’t pleased. I assume that’s thanks to you?”

Aziraphale blushed. “I suppose so. It’s just… um... oh but it is just so _dull_ here, Crowley. I’ve been coping with, well, copying. And when one doesn’t need to sleep or eat one can be rather... productive. The monks here were quite pleased with my prolificness.”

Crowley crooked a smile, finally. “I’m sure they were. You still haven’t said, who's your friend?”

Aziraphale blinked, and felt his brow furrow. “I don’t have any friends.”

A look of hurt ghosted across Crowley's face, and the frown returned. He pointed to Airaphale’s lap “She looks rather friendly, nevertheless.”

“Oh! The cat. It’s a cat. It’s here to remove vermin from the books.”

“Right. What’s her name?”

“Name?”

Crowley sighed and launched himself from the wall, sauntering over. “What do you call her?”

“I’ve never called her. She just shows up when I’m working and sleeps there.”

“Every day?”

“Nearly, yes.”

“For how long?”

“Oh… several years, I should think. I haven’t been attending to it, honestly.”

Crowley circled the writing desk, rubbing his forehead. “Angel, this creature has been your near constant companion for several years and not only would you not call her your friend, you don’t even have a name to call her by? That’s… I’m the one who's supposed to be a demon, but that’s heartless, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “No one’s ever called the cats here by names. I mean, none of the other monks spend very much time in here, but I certainly have never heard anyone use any names for the cats.”

“You could always give her a name?” Crowley offered.

“ _Me_?” Aziraphale’s hand flew to his chest, shock on his face. “Naming things has always been the humans’ job, since the beginning.”

“Well it can’t be that hard. Just…” Crowley wiggled his fingers, “you know… come up with something.”

“Oh, just,” Aziraphale mockingly wiggled his fingers back at him, “come up with something?”

“Wh- I, Jy… _Yesss_. It can’t be that hard, humans do it all the time. They usually pick something about the way they look. It’s a white cat. Call her… Snow. Cloud. Something like that.”

“Hmmm… But she’s not _all_ white. She’s got that little black hat, and a black tail. Clouds don’t have black bits.”

“You don’t have to be so literal, Angel. Call her Kitty. Fluffy… Marshmallow?”

“Marshmallow is a bit of a mouthful.”

“Fine... If you’re calling the black pointy bits around her ears a hat, then call her Hennin.”

“Hennin. Oh, I quite like that. Hennin.” he beamed and reached down to pet the cat, who leaned into it and started purring. “Such a lovely name for a lovely cat.” Crowley frowned down his nose at Hennin as she got her chin scratched. After a moment he plopped down on the small bit of unoccupied bench beside her, scaring her off. When Aziraphale glared at him, the demon returned it with a smirk. 

“Now that that’s out of the way, what can I do to tempt you to leave off for a while? Maybe head into the nearest town, try the local fare?” Crowley asked.

“I really shouldn’t. I was sent here by Heaven to help them become large and prosperous.”

“And you have been, angel, well enough that Hell has sent me round. But a day or two without you isn’t going to change that much, and we can spend that time working to come to some understanding. I’d rather not have to start waterlogging all the books coming out of here or something and ruining all your hard work. Surely there’s a solution we can both be happy with? That we can discuss over a bit of pie. Maybe a beer or two?”

 _Oh good lord,_ Aziraphale thought. He hadn’t eaten in, what, at least five years now, and although his stomach didn’t _need_ food, it certainly started begging for it at the mention of pie. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for me to stop writing for just _one_ day…” 

“That’s the spirit! I’ve brought a carriage round, we can ride back to the city right now.”

Crowley must have been pretending to be a lord of some sort, as a rather decorated carriage with a family crest on it and it’s driver were waiting in the muck outside the monastery. The ride was long but they filled the time talking about what they had enjoyed about the last century, and the reminiscing had brightened Aziraphale’s mood to heights he hadn’t felt in a long time. Crowley took him to the estate he was residing, where they were greeted as lords by the servants. Apparently the demon was corrupting the local nobility, as well as freeloading, by posing as their uncle from far away. He snagged a manservant to have the kitchens send up dinner and pie and beer to his private suite of rooms and then led Aziraphale up to them. 

As soon as it arrived Aziraphale felt his mouth water. There were juicy slices of venison glistening, steamy fresh bread with a crisp crust and butter, and a berry pie with sugar crystals glittering at him on it's crust. He took his time savoring it, the richness of the char grilled meat, the fluffy, sweet buttered rolls. The pie, oh it was flaky and yet had a crunch to it that just melded with the tart sweetness of the berries. Slowly and with a lot of sighs he devoured it all as Crowley watched intently and waited, picking at some of the food here and there.

“That was _scrumptious_. Thank you, Crowley.”

Crowley scoffed, “ _Don’t_ thank me. I’m a demon, I’m doing this for nefarious reasons. I’m here to tempt you into sloth and gluttony.”

“Of course you are, my dear. Still, that was the best meal I’ve had in ages. And this beer is much better than the usual draft you’d find around here.” 

“The beer is _fantastic_. S’why I picked these people to set up shop. They’ve got a brewmaster on staff that really knows his alcohols. I’ve got my own barrel tapped just for tonight.” He lifted his glass and downed a sizable swig. “So feel free to indulge to excess. I certainly will be.”

“Hmmm,” said Aziraphale, and turned to appreciate his own draft. It certainly was worth some indulgence. 

Several hours and tankards later, they had changed from sitting at the table to sprawling across several items of furniture and had moved from catching up to complaining. 

“And all they… All of the… Monks, all of em, they just… Pray all day. Pray and copy. And copy and sleep. Its… oh it’s just so boring Crowley. And the _food_ , ugh. Unseasoned grain, cooked in water. A different unseasoned grain cooked in water. On Sundays, soup with grain. I couldn’t, after… um… after a while, not even to keep up appearances.”

“Yeah, nope,” Crowley replied, popping his nope. “Yeach, and good riddance. Why they… what’s with all the grain?”

“Oh, it’s all they have. The monks make--no, grow it. But it’s… on it’s own it’s not worth much to sell or trade. So they copy the books and sell them. I’m supposed to be making them prosper! Lead… to the humans… lead the humans to the um… uh. Oh, you know.”

Crowley nodded. “Oh, I know. Heaven didn’t even tell you how, did they? No, just.. Just figure it out, make it… make it so.”

“Precisely! And I have!” Aziraphale beamed. “All they had was muck and grain and books and now… well, still a lot of muck, but they have more grain, and, um, oh right! More books! Twice as many monks there now, working, all dedicated to the Lord. And every book has copies. That I… I copied… all the books.”

“Yeah, but, angel… you can’t just… be there, copying books. Not forever. Some point, gotta get the monks to be prossss… proppss… to be well off without you. And I bet you, I bet that if you stopped making books to sell, they’d be back to before.”

“Not quite _that_ bad,” Aziraphale said, giving a sideways look over the rim of his tankard. “But you have a point. I can’t stay there forever.”

“Right. Right. So! What can you make… what can the humans make with grain?”

“Bread.”

“Bread! Yes! Why aren’t they making bread?”

“Oh, that doesn’t sell for much, and can’t be… it goes bad after a bit. Plus, I don’t think they even have any bakers. They don’t even bake for themselves.”

“Oh.” Crowley pouted. They sat in silence, staring into their drinks until Crowley jumped up with a shout, wobbled, and plopped back down hard.

“I got it! Ale!” Crowley held up his tankard triumphantly.

“Yes dear, though I believe this is beer.”

“Ngk--n, no, no, of course _this_ is beer. Your solution! With grain. It’s ale! The monks can brew ale!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Crowley.”

“No, no, no it’s perfect, see! You convince the brewmaster here to suddenly become a devoted man of faith, your scriptorium is funded by the wonderful brews he can make out of all the grain the monks grow. I get to claim to have corrupted a monastery for my lot, you get to claim credit for their prosperity for yours. It’ll even ruin the local nobility a little when they lose their famous master brewmaster, and they’re corrupt as they come, so a victory for both of us there too!”

“Hmmm. You might be onto something there, dear. That might just work.”

Crowley grinned and slumped back, “Course I am. It’ll work, you’ll see. Too bad it’s nearly morning. Bit late for a divine revelation, the kitchen have probably started on breakfast by now. Have to wait till tomorrow night. A shame really.”

Aziraphale lit up. “Breakfast? Oh, well then, I suppose I have no choice in the matter. I’ll just have to stay here to wait till tomorrow night.” 

They shared a smile. And after Aziraphale came to the man in his dreams the next night, inspiring him to become a devoted man of god, they headed out to the monastery together. Within two years the place was practically booming, with enough health and wealth to hire crafts people-- architects, stonemasons, bricklayers, and even gardeners and bakers. Without Aziraphale producing books the place was still legitimately prospering. Even nobility were sending their useless sons, now, to spend a few years learning to be godly. 

  
Crowley and Aziraphale both received congratulations from their respective sides for a job well done on that one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hennin the Abbey Cat is a good kitty, who definitely accidentally gets blessed by Aziraphale while he was petting her. She ends up living 25 happy years eating mice fat on stolen grain and is the local Queen. The other monks provide plentiful warm laps once Aziraphale leaves. 
> 
> I decided to post each chapter as I finished it to try and keep me from freaking out and editing into forever in a puddle of self-doubt. I have the fic plotted out, just have to stay motivated, unafraid and finish it. Feedback GREATLY appreciated, as it keeps me motivated. Editorial comments also welcome.


	2. Alluring Creatures of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a great help in enlisting employees for the bookshop, and also, very offended, he thinks, to be compared to a cat. Probably. 
> 
> Also, please do it some more, whatever that was, Angel.

It was a wonderful coincidence, Aziraphale showing up in Paris just to get in trouble, since Crowley enjoyed being a smug savior. After finishing that business up they left the bastille and Aziraphale led them to what he called a “quaint little cafe” for lunch. Aziraphale had tucked into his crepes with a wide grin and relished each bite, gracing several with moans, as well as savoring the majority of Crowley’s, and was now sipping his drink and patting his lips. 

“So, were they everything you wanted?” Crowley asks, waving a hand at the remains of their lunch, which at this point was mostly a series of smears and some dirty cutlery. 

“Oh, it was, it was.” Aziraphale let out a long sigh. 

“Did you  _ really _ come all the way here just for lunch? Nothing prompted this, truly?” It was hard to believe heaven wasn’t sneaking about, with all the bloody mayhem here. Several other demons were certainly interested in stoking the bloodthirsty fires burning through the country. 

“Oh… Mostly, yes. But I suppose some part of me is just a bit anxious, you see. About settling down so permanently, as it were. I keep thinking, what if I’m making the wrong choice? And then I start thinking of other places I could choose, and remembering all the wonderful things in those other places. And I just kept thinking about Paris and how much I do love their pastry. My word, what a patissier here can do with just butter and flour. And once I started thinking about it I just couldn’t shake the cravings. Though all this turmoil has cemented my not choosing Paris as the right choice, at least.”

“What choice are you talking about?”

“Oh, I’m talking about the bookshop, my dear boy. If I am going to open one, it’s not like I can move it about, take it with me if I feel like a change of scenery. I have to choose where I want to be. And then  _ stay  _ there.”

Crowley chuckled, “An angel with cold feet! You're having commitment issues. Must be a joke here, somewhere. Is this like... your bachelor party? Having a quick go with other cities before you settle down?”

“Oh, ha ha, Crowley. I don't have commitment issues, it’s just a bit of … I’m lacking in self confidence, I think. It’s easy to doubt oneself and one's desires with what would perhaps be better objectively. And have you dealt with real estate recently? My goodness, it’s so complicated now with the humans and their laws and paperwork.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that, that’s partly my fault.”

Aziraphale gave him the side eye, “I’m not surprised.”

“Have you, though? Bought your real estate for the bookshop?”

Aziraphale lit up, “Yes! I just did last month. Quite a lovely space in Soho. Oh, but it’ll still be  _ years _ before I get it up and running, I should think. There are so many steps, and I have to do them all the human way, what with heaven monitoring my use of miracles. Anything that would make it easier on me is frivolous, apparently."

"Yuck."

"Indeed."

"Well, part of the Agreement is to lend a hand when needed, if you wanted me to help" Crowley pantomimed snapping, "speed things up a bit?"

"Oh no, absolutely not. Heaven is strangely invested in my progress and has been monitoring this project especially. I can't risk you being involved."

That hurt Crowley a bit to hear, and he felt himself pouting. Aziraphale noticed and frowned a little in return. A moment passed and suddenly he brightened. 

"There is one thing you could help with, my dear. I could use some advice." Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, you’re a demon, you must have all sorts of ways of getting the mortal creatures to, um, to do your bidding.” This elicited one quirked eyebrow from Crowley.

“I’m more the tempting type of demon than the dark bidding type.”

Aziraphale smirked and broke their eye contact, looking anywhere but at Crowley. “That’s very true,” he said, nearly under his breath, then cleared his throat. “But I  _ am  _ asking about tempting. With heaven monitoring for frivolous miracles, I’ve found myself in a position where I need to improve my ability to tempt without miraculous intervention.”

Crowley leaned back as far in his chair as he could, taking in Aziraphale’s coy smile, light dusting of pink on his cheeks and sudden shyness. _ He couldn’t really be asking about tempting humans to… could he? _ , thought Crowley, as he tamped down a surge of jealousy.  _ He was asking about mortals, it couldn’t be another angel. Must be some human that caught his fancy. No, not his angel... although he was such a hedonist. Maybe he was interested in exploring… no, don’t think about that _ .

Aziraphale fidgeted during the long pause, “Oh, nevermind--”

“No, no, no, I was just thinking. Thoughts. Collecting 'em. Um. Well, I suppose the first rule of temptation is you gotta know what they want. Then you have to show them how to get it by doing what you want to temp them into doing. The easier a path you can pave for that second bit, the more tempting it’s going to be. Doesn’t matter whether you smooth it miraculously or not. Just remove obstacles, make it easy, make sure they know how easy you've made it. 'S why I drop my purse in public sometimes. Tempting to steal, all they gotta do is bend over, pick it up, walk off. No miracle needed, just an easy moment, the choice is all theirs.” 

Aziraphale looked pensive, and after a long moment, began tapping his bottom lip. Crowley watched, mesmerized, as the tip of his manicured nail made the pink, plush lip quiver with each bouncing touch. Without thinking, Crowley’s tongue darted out and licked his own lip, as he tried really,  _ really  _ hard not to think about what sorts of things Aziraphale would want to tempt a human to do for him. To him? No, down that path lay the exact thoughts he was avoiding, so Crowley pretended he hadn’t considered doing any of it to the angel either, with limited success. When Aziraphale stopped and turned back to him, Crowley jerked, trying to drag his thoughts out of the gutter, grateful for the dark lenses of his glasses. 

“But how do you know what  _ they _ want? I have no idea what motivates them when they’re just such a fundamentally different creature than me.”

“Easiest way is to follow ‘em around, see what they like, what they put effort into doing and are trying to get. Then you can get a sense for them. Sometimes, for the really unique lot, it requires real round the clock persistence for quite a while before you can get a sense of their desires, but eventually patterns become apparent.” 

“I see.” Aziraphale nodded, then clasped his hands together. “Thank you, Crowley, I’m sure I’ll find your advice valuable once I can get back to London and practice.”

"My pleasure, angel." Crowley itched to probe further but twitched his fingers and resisted. 

\-----------------

Aziraphale decided it was very good advice indeed, and filed it away with all the other things he'd learned in order to set up his bookshop. Which was certainly a labor of love, tedious  _ and _ odious as it was when one had to do everything the human way. Currently, he was waiting on the dozen plus shelves he had commissioned to be built and delivered, a feat which his carpenter assured him would only take two weeks per shelf, but which Aziraphale felt fairly certain was going to take longer. Everything else had, for the last several years.

Aziraphale had decided now was a fine time to begin his employee research, as he called it. In the flat above the bookshop, where he'd been living as he tried to get the particulars of a business sorted out, there was a window facing the alley out back. He's spent some time watching, and had seen several of the smaller denizens on multiple occasions. There were several rats, who were more furtive and hard to spot, a fox, possibly different foxes as Aziraphale wasn't sure he could tell them apart, and several cats, none of whom stayed there regularly. They stalked prey, sheltered in crevices, and left.

The day before he had left a partially opened, empty crate in the alley, thinking to lure one of the animals to take up residency. That night as he watched, a particularly fat black cat appeared to have taken the bait. It spent the night dragging bits of cloth inside and when dawn came, it had stayed inside it. 

Aziraphale was overjoyed with his success. Over the next week he asked around about what kinds of food to try, and one fishmonger in particular had been especially helpful. He left the fishy treats in the alley and retreated to his window to watch, and the cat would sniff their way over and then greedily devour it. To his great surprise, after a week and a half of this, the cat emerged while he was still setting out food, and it crept near him, warily taking the food from a few feet away. 

But then after a few days of near contact, he didn't see it emerge at all. Nor the next night. Aziraphale started to fret over it; had he done something wrong? Set back his progress somehow? 

With the patience of an immortal being made of love he snuck out towards the crate, and as he neared he heard a strange high pitched sound squeaking out from the little shelter. Curious, he gently pulled open the lid and looked inside. 

There asleep was the cat, but it wasn't the source of the sound. Tiny infant kittens were also inside, one of which had wandered away from its mother and was mewing it’s high pitched little kitten squeaks. 

"Oh my dear, you've had kittens!" Aziraphale whispered. "Hello, little ones. Welcome to the world." He simpered, left today's fish in the box and quietly replaced the lid, creeping back inside. From then on he left his fish treats right outside the cat family's house, and soon enough the little ones were wandering around the alley, pouncing on bugs and gravel bits. When Aziraphale brought out dinner, they ran away from him at first, but after a few weeks they were running up to him, so he had to tread carefully lest he hurt one. They were starting to show interest in the fish, so he started bringing extra for them. 

In this way he made their acquaintance. One was a mottled orange and black, one was black with little white toes, but his favorite was the runt of the litter, a black kitten with one white dot on his face by his nose and a four-pointed star of white on his chest. That one always tried to climb on his hand when he put out their dinner, and so Aziraphale would pet him and steer him back to the food. Soon, the little one was trying to follow him back inside. 

It was a rousing success. Except then Aziraphale realized he had no idea how employed cats came and went from the libraries and scriptoriums he'd known, or how these cats would be able to enter or exit his bookshop. That question required asking a lot more humans than he'd have preferred, but once answered he had more issues commissioning a mason to build a little passageway in the wall for them, which took an additional two months. By then the kittens looked nearly full grown, though they still had the lankiness of adolescence. And if that wasn't just so typical of mortal creatures. Growing and changing like that. 

But then more time passed, and he had an entire bottom floor of shelves, a tiny hallway into the alley for his new employees, and he had started shelving the books he was hoping to actually sell front and center. The mottled cat was more likely to be seen earning her keep, with vermin dangling from her mouth as she removed them from the shop, but the runt just seemed to want to follow him about the shop all day, napping in sunbeams. 

It was rather endearing. And they certainly were worth the pay - three fish a week and he hadn't found a single bite or soiling in any of his papers or parchments. 

Years later Aziraphale finally had his bookshop up and running after hitches both mortal and heavenly were overcome. He had settled into a routine and the bookshop was quickly becoming like his clothes, worn in and comfortable. Only one technicality he needed a consultation on, so he waited till the next time his demon came round to ask.

"My dear, do you remember Hennin?" He asked. They were lounging in the back room, partaking in a lovely vintage Crowley had brought round to share.

"Mmmm, yeah, course. Weird cone hats for fancy ladies. Weren't hard to wear, at least, 'nless you were going through doorways."

"I was referring to the cat."

"Cat? What cat?"

"The one you helped me name, remember. When I was stationed at that Abbey on the continent, you conscripted the local lords' brewmaster for it." Crowley nodded, so Aziraphale continued, "Well, I rather find myself in a similar position. I've two cats in my employ here but I can't seem to settle on what to call them. You were such a great help last time, I thought maybe you could assist me?"

"Sure, angel, why not. What are they like?"

"Well the first, I'm fairly certain she is a girl, and has orange and black dappled fur. She's all business that one. A very hard worker, doesn't linger much."

"Ooh! I know. Call her Business. Then you can say things like, 'I've got business at my shop to take care of' and 'closing early is just good for business' without lying at all. It'd be great fun! Confuse the bosses upstairs and customers alike."

Aziraphale giggled. "What a whimsical suggestion, dear. I may at that. The best I could come up with was 'Dapple'. "

Crowley made a "ehn" and wiggle hand gesture. Aziraphale nodded in agreement. 

"I find the whole process a bit uncomfortable, naming things. It's so outside my usual domain, and I'm just not as creative as you. The other one I've just been calling Runt."

"Well that's not very nice of you, angel. You're supposed to be the nice one."

"Ugh, I know. Well he's a he, and a bit on the skinny side." Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat as he smiled. "Oh he's quite the charmer though. When he wants my attention he just comes up to me and yells till I pet him, and he mostly just sleeps in the sun when he's here. Honestly, he reminds me of you. I've even caught myself calling him Crowley a time or two."

Crowley's eyes widened and mouth dropped. "You what? How dare you!"

"Oh, don't look so shocked, my dear. You're very similar. You both have the loveliest yellow eyes. They're very striking. And, like you, he's mostly black, and so sleek when I stroke him."

Crowley blinked rapidly and a number of emotions played on his face in such rapid succession, Aziraphale only managed to recognize a handful, like the blushing and confusion.

"Bu… no, okay, No. First of all, Snake" he pointed to his eyes. "Not a cat. Snake eyes. Nothing like a cute little kitty. Demonic. Snake."

"Yes, but they both glow so beautifully golden in the candlelight, and neither of you blinks much."

Crowley’s blush deeped to red, he scoffed and made offended faces. "Second of all, I'm not black or sleek to pet. 'M a demon. You don't pet demons. Big scary demon, me."

"When you're in your snake form you're big, but also black and very sleek. You have the softest looking scales; they're very enticing. I assume that's just your natural demonic charm, exuding temptation. And when you're human-shaped, your penchant for silk makes me think even then you'd be very sleek indeed, were one to run their hands across you."

Crowley froze, mouth agape. 

"Come now, dear boy, it's not that bad, being compared to a cat, is it? You know I mean no insult. He's just a sweet little thing, and I'm very fond of him. If you hang around till morning, I'm sure you can meet him. They both usually return to nap inside the bookshop during daylight."

Crowley's eyes darted about the room and he worked his mouth, clearly struggling for words. Little "ngk" and "uh" sounds fell out here and there. 

"Take your time dear, I'll make us some tea." 

\------------

Crowley stared at the angel as he left, and then stared at the empty doorway he'd gone through, his mind racing and yet not really coming up with any coherent thoughts. He could feel the burning of his face, all the way down his chest. There was even a burning that had lit up deep inside him, a low throbbing heat he was pointedly ignoring.

"What is going on?" He asked the room. The room didn't deign to weigh in. 

_ Is Aziraphale flirting with me? _ He wondered to himself.  _ No, can't be. He must have no idea what he’s saying _ .

_ He's just complimenting your eyes in candlelight and pondering what'd feel like to caress you, Out Loud, To Your Face _ , another part of him thought back.  _ Nothing at all to be taken as innuendo by him using the word stroke. Saying you'd be good to feel up. And don't forget the part where he asked you to spend the night _ . 

Right. 

Right.

Perfectly reasonable explanation in here somewhere, he was sure. It would only get him more worked up about nothing if he acknowledged the dryness of his throat and his sudden inexplicable desire to touch things with his lips and tongue. He ran his fingers along the seams of his pants, desperate for sensation. 

He hadn't really decided what was going on by the time Aziraphale returned.

"There we are," he said as he placed a cup of tea on the table for Crowely, "I thought a nice smokey black would go well with your red. I'm not quite ready to sober up for the evening, but a nice tea interlude for us seems in order."

"Black… for my red?"

"Yes, the wine dear, remember?" He added, gesturing to the half-finished bottle on the table. 

"Right. Black?"

"The tea. It's a black tea with a bit of bergamot. You always did appreciate your bitters, so I thought you'd actually drink this one."

"Right." Crowley sipped his tea, which seemed to please Aziraphale, who smiled and sipped his own cup with a few deep sighs. It wasn't bad tea, so Crowley finished his cup, waiting for Aziraphale to start back up with the flirting, or whatever it was he had been doing before. 

Which he didn't do. When the tea was finished Aziraphale asked him about the wine and started pouring them more of that, and they spent the night chatting about all sorts of things and breaking open two more bottles. By morning, Crowley was slumped on the couch, in such a way that could barely be described as upright, half asleep since Aziraphale had gotten distracted by a book he was now reading. 

And then a cat showed up. Sauntered in like he owned the place, jumped up into Aziraphale's lap and started kneading his angel's luscious thigh. Aziraphale just beamed that huge smile of his down at the cat and set his book aside. 

"Here he is! My littlest friend." And then he petted the damned thing. Big pets, from nose to tail, that the little bugger was clearly enjoying. 

Crowley wasn't jealous, because he had definitely never imagined curling up in his angels lap and being stroked in a warm sunbeam while Aziraphale smiled and cooed over him. Definitely not. He was sinful, slothful, and lazy, yes, but he was also a demon and he had his pride. He was maybe wrathful, but no envy here. Big scary demons don’t long for cuddles.

"So, what do you think?" Aziraphale asked, looking up at him. 

Crowley stared back. 

"About a name? My best is Star, from his white patches, but that's just not quite right." The cat started purring under the angel's ministrations. 

"Crowley junior."

"Oh come now, be serious."

"What? You're the one who went on and on about how much we have in common."

Aziraphale leveled him a look.

"Fine, fine... You like star, but he's got two of those white bits, yeah? Well, the humans have discovered there's binary star systems out there."

"Really?"

"Yeah, this guy Herchel's been finding flocks of 'em for the last couple decades. The humans are really having a time with their telescopes. Anyway, of the first couple ones they've found, they’ve named one of 'em Algol. How 'bout that for your furry friend?"

"Algol. Hmm but doesn't that mean-"

"Demon star in Arabic. Yep." Crowley grinned.

"You didn't have a hand in that?"

"No! That's the best part! They did that themselves. That star is not one of mine anyway, not worth my time to name that one. But it's got one real big star and one little star, just like his spots."

"Algol." Aziraphale beamed at him, and Crowley melted a little inside, a warm heat like before, though less insistently throbbing and more like the radiant tug of a warm fireplace that you wanted to curl up in front of. And he melted on the outside as well, to be honest, sliding back down into the couch as he smiled back and got comfy. It was so rewarding to see his angel happy. "Oh, it's perfect Crowley, thank you! I knew I could count on you." 

"My pleasure, angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale does indeed name her Business, and after a many years she has kittens in a cubby in the shop, one of which is a ginger who ends up taking over her job, which he calls New Business. Business and her brother Algol live happily and peacefully with Aziraphale to the ripe old age of 40 because he just cannot believe cats age as fast as they do. When they finally pass, as all mortal creatures must, they go peacefully in their sleep. 
> 
> Two down, one to go! Jealous lap snakes and thirsty demon is my favorite part of this chapter.


	3. Cats versus Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets through the apocalypse and has some realizations.

After having done what they could with Warlock it was just waiting, mostly, for his eleventh birthday. Oh, they checked in on the boy now and again, keeping an eye on him, hoping that this watched pot never boils. 

So today Aziraphale was walking around the other side of London, looking in on the humans, seeing if there were any acts of good he could accomplish today, some miracles he could perform. Maybe cheer himself up; he’d been a bit morose since leaving the Dowlings estate, feeling uncharacteristically lonely lately for reasons unknown to him. 

Which is why when he felt a hot spot of love he immediately changed course to head straight for it, and came upon a new cafe as the source. 

_How intriguing!_ he thought. The very air tingled with love here. It must be an amazing cafe, and Aziraphale’s mouth watered just thinking of the quality of refreshments. He had to try it out!

There was a hostess at the door who greeted him and asked if he had a reservation.

“Reservation?”

“Yes, we’re booked solid for the next month or two.”

“Oh my.” He wondered what kind of delicacies were here that it was booked so solidly, and delicious ideas danced in his head. “I think you’ll find me under A. Z. Fell”

And she miraculously did. He was led to a couch, and placed an order for tea and cakes. Once that was out of the way, he relaxed back and took in his surroundings. The cafe wasn’t crowded with humans, and had rather unique decor, and a good number of cats were also lounging about, many receiving pets and attention from the customers. 

And, Oh, there it was, the love from here. It was pouring off the customers so hard it had imbued several of the furnishings. He closed his eyes and basked in it. It felt like sun on a warm spring day, waves of it beaming over him, which massaged his ethereal self. He hadn’t realized the full extent of his tense unhappiness until he could feel it uncoiling and softening, pressed out by the pressure of this feeling.

He was disturbed when he felt something bump against his hand. Staring up at him with big green eyes was a long-haired white cat.

“Oh, hello there!” Aziraphale smiled down at it and held his hand out. The cat eagerly began bumping its head up against his hand, so Aziraphale obligingly pet the cat on its cheeks. “Aren’t you an easy friend. No wonder you inspire so much love.”

“Yeah, aren’t they lovely?” a young man sitting at a nearby table was watching, smiling at the white cat and Aziraphale. He was in a suit, though the jacket was folded over the back of his chair. In front of him was a half-eaten sandwich and he held a steaming coffee, which he tipped up in a salute before taking a sip. “It feels so good to be welcomed and offered affection so easily, doesn’t it? She’s such a good kitty.”

Aziraphale could feel love coming off this human as he talked. “Yes, she’s quite the charmer. It’s definitely the most affectionate cafe staff I’ve met before.”

This earned a chuckle from the man. “You like cats?”

“I love all earth’s creatures, great and small. But in the past I’ve had the companionship of several cats that I grew rather fond of.”

“Do you have any now?”

“No. My last cat friend passed away-” _over 60 years ago_ “Quite some time ago, and I found it too painful to befriend a new one.” _When they too would only leave me after a short while_ . “It’s hard to lose a companion.” _after companion, after companion_. Mortality pressed upon Aziraphale hard, squeezing his heart at the reminder of the many friends he had made and lost over the ages. He grew a little misty eyed, and tried to blink it away.

The man nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry to hear that. My childhood pet passed when I was in college. I wasn’t even there to say goodbye. It was really hard on me. And then my next cat died suddenly when he was only 7 years old. Rushed him to the vet but there was nothing they could do, his liver was just shut down for some reason. And now, my flat won’t let me have any pets, and I just miss the company. I was so excited when I heard we were getting our own cat cafe in London. A little slice of what I’ve been missing.”

A waitress arrived and laid down Aziraphale’s order. He picked up his tea with both hands and gave it a whiff, enjoying the steamy aroma. He’d ordered the house blend out of curiosity and it seemed he wouldn’t be disappointed. The cat, now bereft of pats, sauntered over to the other man, who happily welcomed it into his lap and smothered it with affection. Aziraphale turned his attention to his slice of raspberry cake, which was moist and _luscious_. His eyes slid closed as he savored the bite.

“What were your cats like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Aziraphale swallowed, and felt his mouth quirk. “They all worked in my bookshop, helping me keep my books safe. They did an excellent job, and I paid them for their services in fresh fish, which they relished. Most of them were happy to just be working and napping in the cozy areas I’d made for them, and paid me little mind, but a couple were a near constant companion for me their whole lives. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, if I was in the bookshop they’d be napping against me or otherwise nearby. ” Aziraphale paused. “I miss them. It’s hard to go from having company every day to being alone again. Sometimes I’ll catch myself thinking, ‘Oh is it time to go down to the fishmonger’s again?’ I used to revel in the quiet hours of the night when it was just me and my books, but lately… I feel a part of me is missing, and sometimes I just stop and look around me, and I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, and I’m left confused and alone.” and Aziraphale had the suspicion he wasn't talking about his employees anymore, but didn’t take the initiative to follow that line of thought. It seemed a dangerous one, and he was extremely practiced at not thinking those particular dangerous thoughts.

The other man let out a deep sigh. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“You do?”

“When my wife left me all I had left was Arnie, and then he died not six months later. It was devastating, trying to live with all the holes in my life where they used to be. You don’t even know where the holes are until you do something or need something and then you brush up against it and it leaves you feeling so lost and empty. Losing them both so close together, it was like I couldn’t turn around without this lingering sense that life wasn’t right anymore, and I used to just go stand in the underground to feel like I still existed and that the world was still turning... I know that loved ones can’t be replaced, but I’m still looking forward to a new love to take care of. Feeding and petting and playing with ‘em. It helps fill in those gaps they left. Arnie’d be happy that I was happy.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” said Aziraphale, while surreptitiously sending him a blessing.

They chatted on lighter topics for the rest of their time, and the cat stayed with the man until he left. Aziraphale took his time watching the other staff and patrons before sending a few of them more blessings. He was certain he would return a few more times before the apocalypse, when he needed to bask in the love in the world and return goodness to those generating it. 

\--------------

Aziraphale was running his bookshop, though today that meant his nose was buried in a new paperback of modern fiction. He’d found many lovely stories of love and tragedy this way, and he usually didn’t mind selling them after, if they didn’t make it into his special collection. The bell to the shop rang and Aziraphale ignored it, continuing to read instead. 

“Hey, angel.” 

Aziraphale immediately stopped and smiled, looking up for the other being. “Crowley! What a lovely surprise, you being here. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Crowley leaned up against the desk, radiating casual disinterest as his glance slid around the room. “Oh, was in the area, spreading fear and panic, you know, the usual.”

“Coins on the sidewalk?’

Crowley scoffed. “No, don’t be daft. No one’s gonna be afraid of a coin.”

“Well then, what were you up to?”

“I was slithering around the parks, letting the humans see and then disappearing.” He broke into a wide grin. “Oh you should have seen it, angel, it was lovely. Humans running screaming everywhere, then the animal control people showing up and not finding anything.”

“Sounds eventful. I didn’t know you still took that form. Haven’t seen you do it since… I do believe it was before Babylon.”

“No, can’t be. I do it all the time.”

“Well not in front of me. Which is too bad, I think you look rather lovely the other way. Your scales are so glittery and they look like they’d be soft and good to pet.”

Crowley’s head whipped up at that, and Aziraphale carefully hid the smirk that threatened, keeping his face schooled into angelic innocence. It was always good fun to praise Crowley when praise was due. The poor demon never seemed to know how to take a compliment, and Azirphale enjoyed both expressing his affection as he could and the amusing reactions it evoked. That this particular idea was one that regularly occurred to him nowadays was beside the point. It didn’t matter how many times a day he’d stopped reading and his hand would itch, wishing he had a snake curled up in his lap to idly stroke as he read. He was only airing the thought to get a rise out of the demon, as nothing could ever come of it. There was a beat of silence, then Crowley’s face changed from startled to confused. Aziraphale stood, interrupting whatever line of thought the demon was running down, and motioned to his back room.

“Where are my manners... Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Yeah, alright.”

They settled in the back, chatting about other good and evil deeds they’d been up to, studiously avoiding talk of Warlock or the upcoming apocalypse for the moment. It was casual and slightly empty of purpose, but nevertheless it filled Aziraphale with a feeling like sunshine, overflowing with love. Love for the world and everything in it, obviously, because otherwise he’d have a problem, and there were no problems here. 

A customer interrupted them, and Aziraphale excused himself to shoo them off. When he returned, Crowley had left, and Aziraphale moped about the shop. 

The next day, he noticed the evil smell was lingering more than usual, but he didn’t think much of it. By day three, however, when it still hadn’t passed, it warranted investigation. So he started sniffing and searching about the bookshop, when he discovered the source was a black down feather under the couch cushion. 

He held it reverently in the palm of his hand, hesitant. Crowley must have dropped it accidentally, he supposed, though he wasn’t sure how that could have happened. Maybe the demon had an itch on his wing he scratched when he was alone? Aziraphale ran a finger along it, and loved how soft it felt. He held it up to his nose to smell it and it tickled him a little. It smelled like Crowley-- a bit like woodsmoke and soil. He idly tickled it across his cheek and lip, and goodness did that feel wonderful. He lost track of time, and when he started out of his reverie several hours had passed. 

Embarrassed, he set the feather down on the table and thought. He couldn’t just throw it away like garbage, but it was probably dangerous to leave it where it was and could be found. He pulled out his handkerchief and gently wrapped it up, then took it upstairs to his flat. He tucked it into one of his snuff boxes, hiding it with the rest of the collection in his bedroom, safe and sound. 

\---------------------

They had done it, and it was all over. It had Apocalapsed. The armies of heaven and hell had gathered to engage in the final combat and then they Armageddidn’t. Aziraphale and Crowley had escaped punishment and gotten their now ex-bosses to agree to leave them alone. 

Aziraphale had thoroughly enjoyed celebrating with Crowley, first at the Ritz, then the next day at the bookshop and he found himself light of step and smiling often and without provocation to himself. He was practically giddy. He had even been nice to his customers and sold multiple books-- though none of the irreplaceable ones, of course. 

A few days of that and then he noticed that the vague smell of evil Crowley left behind wasn’t clearing up again. He sniffed about, having a far harder time of it this go around. After a half a day of poking about his shop, he had three little down feathers in his hand. One had been on top of a shelf in a dusty corner, one had been stuck to a spider web near the skylight, and the last had been behind his Oscar Wilde books. With all the excitement and troubles of the past few weeks, he had no idea when those had shown up. For all he knew they were leftover from the fire, or from when Adam put his shop to rights, or from when Crowley had decided to take a drunken nap on his couch a few days ago. Best not to think about it, after all, it wouldn’t change anything if he knew. 

He took a small delight in petting these new acquisitions as he had his old one many, many times now, and then put them away as he had the last, though he gave each of them their own little snuff box home and set his occupied ones in a place of honor, front and center, in the display. 

It was only two more days before Crowley came by again, and Aziraphale saw him enter the shop with his usual swagger, though he paused, sniffed around a few times, then seemed to deflate a bit. It was rather curious.

“Crowley?”

He swiveled around and leaned against the doorframe casually, “Hey Aziraphale. Fancy seeing you here.”

Aziraphale let out a huff. “Hardly my dear boy, we’re in _my_ bookshop. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothing much, I just wanted to see if you’d been up to anything, lately, before I do my evil deeds of the day.”

“No, not particularly. Just been keeping the shop up, selling books.”

“Right, right.” There was a long pause, where Crowley started looking about at nothing and fidgeting. After a rather awkward wait he growled slightly under his breath and said in an overly casual tone, “Spot of lunch?” 

“Oh, that sounds lovely, let me just close the shop up.”

They went to a posh bakery, which made overly complicated small desserts and served them with finger sandwiches and tea. Aziraphale loved it. Crowley tried a few bites, but mostly seemed quiet and prompted Aziraphale to talk about the books he’d sold, mostly, which Aziraphale was happy to comply with between bites. It was over sooner than he’d like and Crowley offered a ride back, but Aziraphale declined, stating his desire to enjoy the day and city on a walk back. Crowley hesitated again at that, seeming to want something, but then he just bid him farewell and drove off. 

It was a lovely fall day and it was nice to see everyone, still existing and walking about. Aziraphale tossed a few blessings to a few passers by who seemed to be having a hard time and needed them. The whole while, he lost himself in a new set of thoughts.

Why? Why was he blessing anyone? He didn’t have to, no one would be showing up anymore and saying he needed to be using more or less miracles. He supposed he just wanted to, but it was also a 6000 year old habit. And that was an interesting thought. He’d done his fair share of good deeds as well as evil ones during their Arrangement. Did he _want_ to do either or both, now that he didn’t _have_ to?

He was waiting for the signal to change so he could keep walking when a man in a suit brazenly began jaywalking. Crowley's voice floated up in his thoughts, saying what he always said when Aziraphale was scared he’d hit someone with the Bentley, “They know the risks.” 

And without much further thought, Aziraphale had used a miracle to trip the man, who fell face first in the center of the busy street. A car was heading right for him and he scrambled to his feet to run out of the road, making it to the far side in the nick of time. He stopped and turned, then, staring at the road and the cars. Before dusting himself off as best he could (there were stains on his suit) and continuing on his way. 

Aziraphale felt pleased. That man would think again before taking that unnecessary risk! 

But now he was even more confused. He’d enjoyed that as much as he’d enjoyed removing the cold from a mother and child a few moments before. He supposed there was an amount of righteousness in his actions, a touch of justice but it was definitely a greyer area than a healing. Heaven certainly approved of justice and consequences, though a lot less of his assignments involved that sort of thing lately. 

It all boiled down to this, then. Aziraphale had no idea what he actually _wanted_ to do with his existence. Did he _want_ to heal the mortals? To soothe their aches and pains? Did he _want_ to mete out justice? His job on earth had been to thwart and guide and carry out the plans of those above him. It had at times been all sorts of things. But he’d never really spent much time thinking if he would enjoy them on their own, for his own sake. 

What did _he_ want?

And before he realized it he was standing in front of Crowley's building, instead of his own bookshop. He gathered himself, smoothing and straightening his clothing, went up the lift and knocked on the demon’s door.

Crowley didn’t answer it, so Aziraphale knocked again and called out, “Crowley, it’s me.”

A loud noise came from inside and then Crowley was there, wide eyed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all. Why would you jump to that?”

“Wh- I… You left me to go do... whatever... but now you’re here, all of a sudden. What am I supposed to think?” he snarled. They paused, looking at each other, and Crowley loosened up with a sigh. “Why are you here, then?” 

“I’m not really sure to be honest. I don’t have much of a reason, I just was thinking about a lot of things and thinking about the Arrangement and then, here I was, so I figured, why not? And came up. I can go, if you’d prefer.”

Crowley had followed that with an increasingly furrowed brow, but as Aziraphale offered to leave he rushed to shake his head and open the door wide, “No need, no. Do come in.” 

Aziraphale did, and Crowley waitied awkwardly by the door, seeming to be unsure of what to do with his hands. “Don’t let me interrupt whatever you were doing.”

“Not much, see?” and gestured to his throne, where a bottle of whisky and a tumbler were perched on the desk in front of it. 

“I do see, yes.” Aziraphale took his time wandering about Crowley's flat a little, thinking vague thoughts. He’d explored here already when they’d swapped bodies, but something about it was tickling Aziraphale. He slowly and silently worked his way to where Crowley had conjured a couch for him last time he was here, and which he was pleased to see had remained, as if he’d left it for Aziraphale's future visits. Future visits made him happy. He wanted future visits, of that he was sure. 

He sat, and Crowley grabbed his beverage and joined him, silently offering to share, but an offer Aziraphale declined. They sat in gentle silence.

“Do you mind if I read?” Azziraphale broke the quiet. 

Crowley looked surprised but shook his head, “Nope. Whatever you like is fine.” 

“Thank you, dear.” He used a small miracle to fetch the book from his shop he’d been reading. He was a few more chapters in when he heard a soft chuckle and he looked up. 

Crowley had turned on the television and was watching it, sprawled in the chair sideways with his feet on the desk, tipping it backwards with a gentle rocking motion, and whatever he was watching was the source of his amusement. He hadn’t noticed Aziraphales attention. Gently and soundlessly, Aziraphale lowered his book to his lap and watched. 

Suddenly, his chest clenched up and he felt a tear start to come to his eye. He tried to blink it away. He _loved_ this. He wanted more of _this_ . Being able to lose himself in his hobbies and yet when he looked up, there was Crowley, safe and sound and also enjoying himself. He wanted this so badly it _hurt_ , his chest aching, and he was only allowing himself to think about it for the first time, to wonder if he could have more of this. It was a bit of a revelation to him. He’d spent six millenia alone and never really thought about if it could be different, if he _wanted_ company. For a brief moment, he remembered Hennin, and Algol, and Snackish, and the others who used to just sit with him. He missed them, he missed just knowing someone was there, for him and just wanted to be with him, nearby. They had taught him how nice that could be. He wanted to be that for Crowley, he knew it from the bottom of his heart and felt it tickling his trembling hands. 

More tears came. He tried to daub them away surreptitiously, but his clothes rustled and Crowley turned at the sound. The demon's eyebrows flew up and his chair clattered back down on all fours as he swiveled around and started to reach towards Aziraphale.

“Are you alright? What's the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry you about” Aziraphale sniffed and smiled at him “Just got wrapped up in the story is all,” he lied. “It’s late, I should probably go home.” Aziraphale closed his book and stood to leave, the demon following and moving closer, hovering, reaching out but not touching. 

When Aziraphale reached the front door he turned. “Would you mind if I came back tomorrow? Just to read?”

“You want to come back here, to my place, to read your books?”

“If that’s alright with you.”

Crowley nodded slowly. “ ‘S fine. More than fine. Good. Welcome, you’re welcome anytime.”

“Excellent. It’ll be by later in the day then. I'll have to wait till after I close up the bookshop.”

With a final exchange of nods, he left. 

\----------------------

Aziraphale was acting mysteriously. In Crowley’s post-apocalyptic victory lap he’d relaxed and let his hair down at Aziraphale’s (Figuratively speaking, as he still had short hair for the moment, though he was planning to grow it out again. But he’d let his wings out when his angel wasn’t looking) to make it seem more like his home, but had been disappointed when the angel had scrubbed any lingering bits of his presence. He should have known better. He did know better. He’d done it before and the same thing had happened. He’d just thought that … now they were on their own side... but, no, apparently. 

And yet, now his angel wanted to sit around a demons’ flat just to read. Read the books he had in his shop. Books he could easily just read there. He wanted to walk to Mayfair to sit on Crowley's couch and read. 

It was confusing. 

Maybe the angel was just bored and wanted a change of scenery? Maybe he was still worried about intervention from heaven or hell.

 _Yes, that must be it!_ Fretful angel was fussing and being anxious. That made the most sense. This would be easy to indulge, practically a joy to do so. Crowley himself wanted to spend more time together. Wanted to do a lot of things together, but that was for another day. Millenium. Who knows. Wasn’t his call. 

Just as he’d said, Aziraphale showed up the next night, and brought a few books tied in string. They chatted a bit, and Crowley broke out a wine he knew would be received well, and it was. After a bit Aziraphale settled himself into his couch and started reading, and Crowley passed the time until he got tired.   
  
“I’m going to go have a kip, if that’s alright?” 

Aziraphale smiled up at him, a soft thing that did things --squirmy things-- to Crowley’s insides. “Yes, of course, don’t let me stop you.” 

So he retreated to bed. When he woke up late the next morning the angel was gone, but he’d left a note in flourishing handwriting, clearly written by a quill, as he’d left it beside the note with a conjured little inkwell. It smelled of Aziraphale. He held it up to the light. Was this one of Aziraphale’s own feathers? He took another big whiff and tickled his cheek with it while he turned his attention to the actual letter. 

_Dear Crowley,_

_Thank you for your company last night. I didn’t want to leave without saying so, but it was time to open the bookshop. Hope to see you again today._

_-Aziraphale_

_Again?_ _Today?_ Crowley let out a grunt. That was interesting, but doable. He twirled the quill and thought. He should probably plan to arrive at the shop right before Aziraphale usually closed. And bring some libations. 

It took a bit of shopping around, but he turned up that evening with fresh cakes and two bottles of wine that were all of a suitably acceptable quality level. He arrived and the shop was still open, Aziraphale lost in a book behind his desk, as usual. Crowley took a moment to watch him read, admire the slight upturn of his mouth, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his hair looked almost white on its edges. He sat leaning forward over the book on his desk just slightly, with perfect posture, his eyes scanning the page at an even rate. 

“Hey, angel.”

Aziraphale looked up and his eyes crinkled even more at the corners, his grin breaking out. “Crowley! Lovely to see you. I assume you read my letter?”

“Yep.” he popped the p, and then set his bag on the desk. “Thought you’d enjoy being at your place today. Brought cake.”

“Oh, how lovely! Would you like tea?” Aziraphale gently closed his book and stood. “Let me just close shop and I’ll make some.”

“Sure thing. I’ll just, uh,” he pointed to the back room.

“Thank you.”

He moved into the back and set out his offerings, changing his take-out containers to china and silverware with a snap, before casually draping himself over the couch. When Azirphale entered bearing his tea service he let out a delighted hum of approval, and set about serving them. Crowley politely sipped at his tea while watching his fussy angel set out his own tea and cake, taking small, delicate bites and savoring them. 

It was a slow, but entrancing process, and it was one of Crowley’s favorite things. Crowley liked to watch Aziraphale enjoy almost anything, but food was where he was his most unrestrained. They chatted lightly and Crowley broke into the wine before Aziraphale had finished his sweets, and they settled into a comfortable quiet drinking. Aziraphale asked if he could read, and Crowley assured him that was fine with him, and then he sat, sipping his wine and watching Aziraphale enjoy reading, until he grew tired and accidentally fell asleep. 

\--------------------

Aziraphale felt like he was melting. He felt like he was radiating his insides out in an invisible sunbeam. It was incoherent and yet it felt so _right_. He had looked up from his book and Crowley had fallen asleep, his jaw slack enough that his lips had parted and his glasses had slid out of place. 

It was so _perfect_. He’d watched him for long enough that dawn was imminent. He quietly stood up and left to watch the sky change colors out the windows at the front of his shop, as people started going about their days. 

Aziraphale still didn’t know what else he wanted from his life, or what his purpose was, or if there was a higher calling left for him, now that he didn’t work for heaven anymore. But he did know he wanted Crowley to be with him. And that started with getting Crowley to spend his time together as often as possible. If he could get Crowley to be in the bookshop that would be even better, having managed to combine all his favorite things, but he’d settle for just being together. 

He smirked. It was time to do some tempting, just as Crowley had taught him to, all those years prior. It’d worked great in luring his four legged employees to doing what he wanted of them in the bookshop, surely a similar process would work for luring in a demon for the same. 

At his desk he got out paper, and opened a case removed from the drawers underneath that contained a quill pen made from one of his own feathers and ink. It was time for thinking and planning. 

Step one was finding out what your target wants. Step two was figuring out how to make it easy for them to get what they want by doing what you want. 

He entitled the page “What Crowley Wants” and gave it a flourishing underline. Halfway down the page he wrote “Temptations to try.” He spent his morning thinking and working on his list, not bothering to open the shop. From time to time he checked on Crowley, who was still asleep, though he managed to roll onto the ceiling by midday. When Aziraphale noticed he had begun to lightly snore, it made him clutch his chest, as his heart felt as if it were nearly bursting with love. 

He worked on his list all day, even stopping to do some research on snakes. By evening he had:

_What Crowley Wants_

  * _Alcohol_


  * Black things


  * Driving/ the Bentley


  * Fancy Sunglasses


  * Stirring up human chaos


  * Plants 


  * The new things humans come up with 


  * Things that make snakes happy ? ?


  *     * Comfortable hidey holes


  *     * Basking on stones 


  *     * Climbing and slithering around


  *     * Sleeping



_Temptations to try_

  * Expand my wine collection, offer more often. Add spirit cellaret to back room or upstairs


  * Redecorate bookshop and upstairs. Wear black?


  * Ask for rides or to go on trips


  * Wear sunglasses? 


  * Take him easily stirred up places.Try to come up with joint Agreement-like projects? 


  * Ask for plants for upstairs and help with them


  * Update the technology I use


  * Go sunbathing?


  * Sleeping together



Aziraphale was pleased with himself. It was a good list, the roots of an excellent plan of action. He put it in the top of his desk drawer and went back to the backroom, where Crowley was still snoozing on the ceiling. This was a project he could start immediately. He already had managed to tempt him into sleeping here and he hadn’t even meant to, surely he could manage repeat performances. 

Aziraphale watched him snoozing away, then manifested his wings so that he could reach all the way up to the ceiling and lightly touch his demon, just a small caress on the cheek with the tip of his wing, so light that it wouldn’t disturb his slumber. He lingered there as long as he dared before withdrawing.

He went ahead and left his wings out as he poured himself a glass of the wine they hadn’t yet finished, settling back in for the evening with his book. A while later Crowley rolled over again, ending up on the wall now, and his wings popped out, draping over him like a blanket. He manifested a pillow in his sleep as well, and propped it under his head with his arm. 

Aziraphale’s feline employees had required hidey holes and sleeping spots, but what Crowley desired in that regard would take some surreptitious research. Going from his current state, he appeared to accept firm sleep surfaces, though he doubted this was his preferred way to rest. Aziraphale hoped he could get a hold of that pillow before it was disappeared. 

Crowley woke up the following morning, though as it was nearly noon, calling it morning still was being generous. He was a slow riser, first blearily blinking and rubbing his eyes. He had rolled to the floor beside Aziraphale’s chair a few hours before waking up, and when he raised his head to look around, a big frown and a pink crease line from the pillow were across his face. It was adorable, and Aziraphale leaned over to put himself in the demon’s line of sight. 

“Good morning, my dear boy.” 

Crowley squinted up at him and adjusted his glasses so they sat correct on his face. “Uh.” He sat up and patted himself, smoothing his jacket into place. He started to stand, but his wings knocked a few books to the floor, which startled him, and then his wings disappeared back into the aether where they normally lived. Aziraphale discreetly snapped behind his back, moving the pillow to the bedroom upstairs. Crowley looked up, embarrassment evident in his features as he made eye contact and said, “What happened?”

“You fell asleep on the couch while I was reading the day before last, and you’ve been napping here at the bookshop since. You moved about quite a bit in your sleep and that’s how you ended up down there. Oh, and I drank the rest of your wine. It was too good to let it go to waste, I do hope you don’t mind.” 

Crowley moved to the couch, sitting down reluctantly and still trying to assess the situation. Aziraphale decided now was a fine time to get down to business.

“Did you have any business to take care of today? Because I was rather hoping you’d assist me in a new project of mine.”

This earned a quirked eyebrow in reply. “New project?”

Aziraphale smiled “Yes. I’ve been thinking about things and now that I’m not working for heaven anymore I’ve settled on a new project. The first step of which is that I’ve decided to do some renovations and redecorating here. I’d like to change the rooms upstairs into a proper flat, and change things a bit in the rest of the shop. As you know, I haven’t, before, and you’ve kept up a modern home, so you must know more than I about such things. I don’t even know where to start. I haven’t had to commission furniture in over a century.”

Crowley leaned back against the couch with a great groan, clearly much more comfortable in this territory. “First of all, no one commissions furniture anymore. They go to a store or use a catalog to pick it out and then just buy it.”

“My point exactly. You know these things. Will you help me?”

“Sure thing, angel.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote what was supposed to be the last chapter and realized it was WAAAaaaaay to long, so I've broken it up. The next chapter has so much sweet fluff I had to take breaks while writing to go squee to my partner. 
> 
> Because of Aziraphale's blessing the businessman ends up getting a raise, moves, and indeed adopts two cats, a pair of ginger brothers who love him.


	4. Just According to Keikaku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles are hard and I am sick and too idiotically nerdy, so obscure internet jokes from a decade+ ago for you.

Crowley was having a strange few days. He’d woken up in Aziraphale’s bookshop  _ with his wings out _ , and that had been strange and deeply worrisome but the angel didn’t seem to notice or mind the overstep, although Crowley was fairly certain any traces of his lapse would again be scrubbed after a few days. 

But then the angel had asked him for help redecorating, and then had some very specific requests that he wasn’t expecting. Apparently he wanted to start actually living more like a human upstairs, where Crowley had never even been, and was trying to set it up like a human flat, _ as well a _ s update some of his business.

It was unprecedented. Crowley had no idea how to take this sudden embracing of modernity and change. For somebody’s sake, the angel had even asked about computerized cash registers and using debit cards in his shop. 

It had taken weeks of shopping, taking the angel round to furniture stores and bringing over his laptop so they could browse catalogs online, just to get some of the furnishings sorted. Their first purchases had been all the trappings and furniture needed to install a well stocked bar, which was not what he’d expected the first thing Aziraphale would want for a living space, but he supposed the angel must long ago have bought enough bookshelves and comfortable armchairs. They’d even gone to several high end liquor stores and the angel had bought  _ cases  _ of wine and spirits, taking nearly all of Crowley’s recommendations. 

The strangest of all was his sudden shift in tastes. At first Crowley had steered him to warm furniture and warm colors, but he’d kept asking for black things, and shades of charcoal and slate were turning his eyes. 

Crowley was taking out his confusion on his plants, who he’d slightly neglected and was concerned they were getting a bit uppity. There were less of them now, since Aziraphale had shown an interest in having a few for his flat. Crowley had given Aziraphale some of his most well behaved and was worried the new ones he’d bought as replacements hadn’t been broken in enough. He’d spent more than half of each day with Aziraphale, working with him on his new project, or resting and chatting together, or running out for food because the angel got ‘peckish.’ It had been nice, if Crowley was being honest with himself, but he wasn’t, because that would require Crowley to reflect on it, which he was assiduously avoiding in order to not read anything into it or get his hopes up. 

He snarled and put away his mister, as none of his plants had dared to step out of line and they looked as perfect as ever, even if they trembled less around him. He retreated to sulk on his throne, waving the TV on and idly listening. A few hours passed and he got a call on his mobile. It was Aziraphale, so he answered. 

“Hey.”

“Hello, Crowley. It’s me.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Guess what arrived?”

“How would I even know? ... What?”

“My POSH system!”

“It’s a P. O. S. system, not a posh system.”

“It is, though, very posh. It’s white and glass and shiny! So modern. But I am afraid I am out of my depth here and have no idea how it works. I’ve read the manual but would you mind giving me a hand? You’re much more familiar with all of this sort of thing.”

Crowley sighed. “Sure thing, I’ll be over later.” He would always try to do what the angel asked, as rare as they were. Well, had been, usually are. Lately the angel had a lot of requests to indulge. 

“Thank you, Crowley. I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

\-------------------------------------

Aziraphale’s plan had been working perfectly. After his impromptu sleepover, Aziraphale hadn’t managed to get another, but he had found almost a dozen new feathers around the bookshop after, which he admired thoroughly before they joined the others in his snuffbox collection. His living space upstairs was looking almost like a human flat, now, and was gradually getting flashier and more stylish, perfect for enticing a demon to stay. His wine collection was now a wine  _ and spirit  _ collection, and he had a small bar in his living room, as well as several new soft and firm surfaces upon which a snake demon could lounge. 

Aziraphale had even insisted Crowley take him to an IKEA as one of their first outings, after having heard the demon joke about it but then insist it was not going to be to his liking. Crowley had been right, but that wasn’t the point of that particular outing. The store served snacks, which Aziraphale was interested in trying, and while he was Crowley had changed the directions that many of the floor arrows and signage pointed, resulting in milling crowds of confused and angry shoppers. The resulting chaos had been very distracting from their supposed purpose in shopping, but Crowley’s near constant chuckles over it as they explored were exactly what Aziraphale had wanted out of the trip. He’d enjoyed watching Crowley have fun so much he hadn’t even changed it all back, letting the humans sort it out themselves. The angel had gotten his own unexpected help from it as well.

_ “The part I’m having trouble with is how do humans decide how to set up these showrooms? How do they know what looks good together?” Aziraphale asked as he stared at one of the showrooms, marveling at how different it looked even though half the things in it were also in a very different looking previous showroom.  _

_ “They have a job for that, called an interior designer. The designers put all the stuff together so it looks good and is in the style they want.” Crowley distractedly replied, as he was busy grinning and watching a man walking circles and swearing. _

_ “And everyone hires these interior designers, then?” _

_ “No, angel, they’re expensive. Only fancy businesses or rich people hire them.” _

Which had given Aziraphale the idea to hire an interior designer for his flat. He’d looked up the rich people and fancy businesses he knew of and found the designers they’d used. Crowley had shown him how to use “the google,” and since he expected the search engine to just find anything he asked it, it worked much better than it should have in answering almost any question he posed. Humans would have a better idea of how to be stylish and modern than the angel, and after his consultation with one he was very pleased with his decision, as the designer had quickly grasped his plan and was very good at integrating things that Aziraphale liked with what Crowley seemed to prefer. The cost was prohibitive, so Aziraphale had to actually sell some of his less beloved first editions to cover it, but he felt it was worth it. It had been nearly a month of outings and browsing catalogs on the internet with Crowley, and then another few weeks with his designer, but they were almost finished with the entire upstairs flat; he just had to pick out a mattress. And since he was hoping to entice Crowley to sleep in it, he needed to try and get the demon to pick out a mattress that was to his liking, somehow. The designer had even created a bespoke display shelf on one wall, where all of his snuffboxes had little nooks where they sat in pairs. Each pair had one of Crowley’s feathers inside the box on the right and one of his own inside it’s neighboring box on the left. He wasn’t sure why he’d had that urge to or why it felt so right like that, but it changed the ambiance of his home in a way he was very appreciative of. 

“Aziraphale?” he heard Crowley calling from downstairs.

“Be right there!” he called back. He picked up a suitcase and headed down. Crowley met him with a scowl of confusion. 

“Thought you said you were setting up your new register and stuff?”

“Yes, I had intended to, but realized I should finish rearranging my bookshop before I start that particular venture. I at least need to clean off my desk before I start getting into all that.” He saw a pout start to form on the demon’s face, so he rushed to add, “But I wanted to take a break from all this anyway and since the weather is agreeable, I was hoping we could take a trip instead?”

“What kind of trip?”

“I’d like to go to the beach, preferably one with some good cliffs. I’m already packed!” he hoisted his suitcase. “If you’re amenable?”

“Sure thing, angel. You know that’s going to be quite a bit of a drive though? We’d have to spend the night somewhere. That alright?”

“Oh, it’s just what I had in mind. We can stay anywhere you’d like. “ Aziraphale beamed, incredibly pleased at how well this had all been going. “Do we need to swing by your place, first?”

“Nah, I’ll just miracle up anything I need. Any particular place you had in mind?” 

“No, not in particular. I’m more than happy to abide by your preference.” 

Crowley grunted and turned to leave. Aziraphale followed out the shop and locked it behind him. When he turned, Crowley was waiting by the Bentley holding the door open for his companion. It made Aziraphale feel warm and gooey inside, like a freshly baked tart. He put his hand to his chest and thanked the demon, who scoffed and closed him in before walking around and getting in himself. 

The drive was mostly quiet and pleasant, but took the rest of the day. Aziraphale enjoyed the company, pleased with himself for arranging it successfully, and pleased with the small smirk of pleasure on Crowley’s face as he sped throughout. When they arrived in the area Crowley took a moment to putter around on his cellular phone before he finished driving them to a rather fancy looking hotel. They checked in and headed up to their room, a penthouse suite on the top floor. It was very much something Crowley would like on the inside, as it was bright white, modern and sleek. 

It sparked a pleasantly spirited debate about whose side could claim responsibility for things such as pillows were they to have tried to take claim for them in the past reports (they were slothful, but also peaceful). They ordered room service, including a bottle of champaign, and bantered into the early hours of the night. 

Crowley yawned. Aziraphale spoke up, “Crowley dear, you seem tired. Did you want to get some sleep?”

Crowley hummed in thought. 

Aziraphale brightened. “I’m sure a quick miracle could turn whatever well-used, uncomfortable bed they have in there into the perfect place for you to rest. It’s a holiday for both of us, you should indulge in some luxury for yourself, too. One snap and you’ve the perfect mattress to enjoy a nice long rest on. I’ll just read out here while you indulge, yes?”

Crowley thought about it and nodded. “Right. See you in the morning.” He opened the door to the bedroom, snapped, and closed it behind him. Aziraphale smirked. That had been an easy temptation, executed flawlessly. Now he’d just steal the mattress Crowley had conjured in the morning, then replace it with a new one like the others in the hotel. No one would ever know he’d taken it and then his flat would be perfect and finished. 

After a few hours he’d peeked in, where Crowley was indeed snoozing away in what looked like a much larger and softer bed than before. It was only a matter of small persuasive miracle for him to be shown a similar room to theirs by the staff, under the premise of considering a further stay, so he’d know how to “return” it in the morning. 

When Crowley had blearily arisen, slunk over to where he left his champaign and taken a swig, his plan went off without a hitch, a quick snap and the miracle was done. There was a new bed in his home, and the one here returned to normal. Aziraphale was inordinately pleased with himself and couldn’t stop smiling, a fact which was quickly noticed by his demon, but who seemed to write it off as enthusiasm for their imminent beach trip. 

It was just getting into the heat of the day when they drove out. They arrived at a miracuously empty beach, which Crowley only noted with one lifted eyebrow, to which Aziraphale just looked smug. No questions were asked. Crowley snapped and donned a rather modern bathing suit, a barely there number that looked quite dashing on him. 

“Where do they keep the changing tents?”

Crowley laughed hard at that. “Those went out of fashion over a hundred years ago, angel. Nowadays people just wear their things under their normal clothes. 

“Oh. Well, I suppose I’ve inadequately prepared for that.” He snapped, and a blue and white striped changing tent appeared. “I’ll be back in a wiggle.”

When he emerged he was wearing his new bathing costume, a long black thing that resembled Crowley’s underthings he’d last seen in hell and a pair of oversized white-rimmed sunglasses. When he’d first donned it, some rather unpleasant feelings had come up, but he took his time to work through them then so that he wouldn’t have an issue in front of Crowley. 

The demon startled, so taken aback when he saw he literally took a step backwards. 

“That’s… black.”

“Most observant, dear.”

“ ‘Sssss not what I expected. You go in for the lighter shades, usually.”

“I can’t very well wear white to go swimming, now can I? I’d end up rather indecent, wouldn’t I?” and he batted his lashes.

Crowley blushed, a gentle reddening of his ears and cheekbones, and turned away grumbling under his breath. Aziraphale was pleased his explanation for the change had worked, and also that the demon did seem to like it, as he had planned. He took a moment to bask in how well it was all going before he asked, “I’d like to stretch my wings for a bit. Care to go flying with me, my dear?”

“Sure. ‘S been a while.”

“Indeed.” he turned and walked up the beach till they had climbed up the cliffs, taking a moment to enjoy the view once they reached the top before he let his wings out, giving his whole body a good yawning stretch while he was at it. It felt so good to work the kinks out, and he didn’t get many opportunities nowadays to let his wings out like this. 

There was a long moment where Crowley stared at him before he silently brought his own wings out and similarly stretched. Aziraphale suspected the demon had been watching him for a long time, but he was doing it more often and Aziraphale was getting better at catching him. He himself was spending more time watching Crowley, so fair was fair, he supposed. It was nice to have his attention and such an effect, but it made him feel a bit self-conscious and awkward nevertheless. 

“Ready?”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale dove off the cliff, beating his wings to rise aloft and soared out over the water. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Crowley was following him, which gave him an idea. 

“Catch me if you can!” Aziraphale called backwards before using all his power to rush forward as fast as he could.

“Oh, you think you're faster than me? I’ll show you who's the speed demon!” Crowley replied.

They chased each other for quite a while, zooming back and forth. Aziraphale had to resort to doing barrel rolls and other aerial maneuvers to try and outwit if not outrun the demon, who it turns out was both more nimble and quicker than Aziraphale in the air by a small margin. It was great fun to almost get caught and then suddenly drop, or turn, and see the glare and growl come off his friend. He ended up giggling the whole time, which impeded his progress, but Crowley caught his energy and by the time he managed to grab him in the sky, they both clung to each other and were a giggling mess. They landed back down on the sand afterwards, near where his changing tent was, and Aziraphale gave a playful slap on the arm.

“You caught me very thoroughly, dear. Good job.” and he patted the demon’s arm again. “Oh, but it does feel good to have the wind in your hair, the ocean breeze, indulge in a good workout.”

Crowley smiled in response, which bloomed an answering smile from Aziraphale. He conjured a large beach towel, which he spread out, and laid down on, wings rubbing into the sun-baked sand. 

“Join me for a sun bath?” 

Crowley said nothing, but followed suit to join him. With one last shared smile Aziraphale settled back with a deep sigh, enjoying the quiet and warmth. They stayed like that for a long while. Going into this part of his project Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d enjoy this, thought he might find it boring, but when it came down to doing it, he was. There was an intimacy to it, to being exposed and together, with no expectations but that they would keep existing, exposed and together. Plus, he really enjoyed seeing Crowley’s wings -- they were so sleek and well groomed. He shuffled his own in the sand, and it was a pleasant bit of dust bathing to accompany. Crowley again followed suit, though his was a bit more aggressive, but he was very careful not to fling any sand onto Aziraphale.

Eventually the sand got a bit itchy, so Aziraphale got up and shook them off, trying not to fling sand onto Crowley in turn. 

“I’m going for a bit of a swim. Did you want to join me?” He held out his hand.

Crowley smiled again, a soft, small thing that he didn’t get to see enough. The demon took his hand and Aziraphale helped him up. Crowley shook out his own wings, and then Aziraphale pulled him along behind him, into the warm ocean. They waded and splashed a bit before finally dropping their hand-holding to swim, letting the waves pull through their feathers and cleaning out any lingering sand. They floated, passing the time, until nearly dusk, when they headed back to shore. 

Aziraphale did his best to shake out the water from his wings, but because he’d not been doing the best at grooming them, they remained waterlogged and sticky. 

“Oh dear. “ He curled one wing in front of him, uselessly checking it. “I suppose I didn’t think this part through.”

“That’s alright, angel. We’ll get you back to the hotel and cleaned up, they’ll be right as rain.”

The ride back, with his sticky wings hiding in the aether, was very uncomfortable. He realized that once they were back, they’d both have sticky, unpleasant wings that needed cleaning, and that this presented an unexpected opportunity that he could take advantage of. So by the time they arrived back at the hotel he had screwed up his courage to try for another big temptation. 

“Would you help me clean up? I can return the favor, if you’d like.” Aziraphale asked, releasing his own wings and pointing at them.

Crowley’s eye widened, mouth dropping open, and when he spoke it was in a tiny croak. “Yeah. Anything… Anything you’d like.”

Aziraphale felt the nerves release, relaxing his whole body. It had worked! “Wonderful! Shall we?” 

They went into the bathroom, which Crowley adjusted to suit their needs with a quick snap. Aziraphale started undressing, and realized that this was going to be a little more difficult on his end than he’d expected. If being watched while reading and sunbathing had felt awkward, then having Crowley’s eyes on him as he bared himself put a whole new level to it, making him nervous and feeling a bit scared and yet, strangely intrigued and tingly. He tried to play it off, be cool as Crowley always was, like he neither noticed or cared. 

Which ended up meaning that Aziraphale was fully naked and had moved to the shower to rinse out the salt before he noticed that Crowley hadn’t even moved from the doorway. Aziraphale went about rinsing, feeling eyes on him the whole time. He knew he was blushing, felt it burning down his neck, and he hid his face in the spray. He was growing nervous, and shy, but he just tried to ignore the sensation and focus on rinsing in the now oversized, rainfall-style shower. He closed his eyes and it helped him concentrate on what he was doing instead of the building tension, so he kept them shut until he was finished. When he did open his eyes, finally feeling like the stickiness and grit was gone, he was surprised to see Crowley hadn’t moved yet, stock still standing in the doorway, face aflame, silently watching. 

“Were you going to rinse off, my dear?” He asked gently, moving to the side and setting down on one of the two conjured stools. 

Crowley nodded, “Right. Right, I’ll just, um…” He finally stepped fully into the room and removed his clothes manually, occasionally getting tangled up in them. Aziraphale started toweling his wings off while he waited, enjoying his turn to just enjoy the show. It helped soothe his nerves, leaving him with just a tingly sensation and a growing urge to touch. Eventually Crowley managed to disrobe, rinse off, and join him on the other stool, toweling himself off. Aziraphale waited for him to finish, his own towel lying forgotten across his lap as he appreciated his companion’s beauty. 

“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” the angel asked.

“Never done this before.”

“Really? But your wings are always so well-groomed.” 

“Oh. You meant grooming. Right... In that case, not long at all. Had a big go at it after the apocalypse finished- er... well since we stopped it, undid it, whatever. They smelled like burning things, after, and I didn’t like it.” 

“That’s much better than me. I don’t think I’ve so much as oiled my feathers in... I can’t seem to recall. I think it was this century, though.”

“Now that’s just irresponsible.”

“Says the demon. You, my dear, just take excessive pride in your appearance. Nothing wrong with a little humility.”

“There’s humility and then there’s hygiene, angel. God never commanded that being filthy and disheveled was a good deed.”

“How very dare you. I’m not filthy.”

“Didn’t argue with ‘disheveled’ though, did you?”

“They get cared for often enough. I don’t need them to be pristine.”

Crowley finished drying himself and wrapped his towel around his waist. “Right, let me see how bad it is.”

“It’s not terrible, though I do expect that I broke a few feathers during all our averting exertions. I could feel some unusual drag when we were flying.” Aziraphale said as he swiveled around on his stool, presenting his back to Crowley. Anticipation bloomed inside him, craving to be touched. He heard the squeal of the stool scooting across the tile floor as he came closer.

“You can make excuses all you like, but I won that chase fair and square. I’m faster than you in the air and a few mussed feathers aren’t why. Got any grooming preferences?”

“No, just normal is fine.”

There was a pause. “It’s been a few millennia since I did this for someone else, so… you know… I’ll just go about it like I do for me, then?”

“Yes, thank you, that will do nicely.”

And then he felt Crowley’s hand gently touching his wing. It started very slow, almost reverent, as he finger combed the smaller coverts, pulling and straightening as he went. Once he moved to the larger coverts he developed a slow rhythm that was intensely relaxing for Aziraphale. It felt like the best massage he’d ever received, except this one made him feel full to bursting with love. It was everything he’d wanted, and it took a large portion of his resolve not to moan and lean into the touches, to play it cool. He wanted Crowley to run those hands over him as long as possible, over any place he’d like to, so he could lean into the touch and croon. 

“When do you normally start oiling, then? I usually oiled as I went.” he asked

“I do it all at once at the end. If there are any bits or what have you it keeps them from getting stuck in the oil from where you just cleaned.”

“That makes sense. A bit fastidious…”

Crowley snorted. “It’s not. Your standards are just low.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and ventured a glance behind him. Crowley was smiling his small smile again, barely a crook of the corner of his mouth, as he focused on the task in front of him and worked. Today was possibly the most he’d seen of that smile, and it was Aziraphale’s favorite. It was beautiful. He wished he could lock this memory away forever like the treasure it was, so he could take it out from time to time to marvel at it again. 

Sooner than he’d liked, Crowley had finished both wings. “Do you use your own oil or something else?” 

“My own, mainly, though I add a bit of a special blend to it as well.” He miracled his small vial from home. “I put a few drops on my gland to mix it in and loosen it up, plus I like the aroma.” He handed it over to Crowley. 

“Right and it’s okay for me too…” Crowley gestured vaguely at Aziraphale’s waist. 

“Well how else are you going to? Unless you’d rather not. I can oil them myself, where I can reach.”

“No no, I’ll… I’m fine with… I just wanted to check… Just turn back around and I’ll get on it, yeah?”

So Aziraphale did, he felt Crowly brush up against his oil gland, which rested right at the top of his bottom over his spine, before he felt the coldness of his blend drops hitting it, and their scent filled the air. It was his own special creation, a mix of pine and lavender oil, and he felt it really complimented his natural oil’s scent, which was mellow but earthy. He heard Crowley’s breath hitch and there was a long pause before he began oiling, his strokes along the feathers even more soft and reverent than before. When he finished he patted Aziraphale on the shoulder and announced, “All done.”

Aziraphale stretched around, inspecting his wings. They were lovelier than they had ever been. He beamed at the demon and said, “Thank you Crowley, truly. You’ve made them look perfect.”

“Just cleaning up your messes.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and put away his wings. “Now, I suppose it’s my turn to return the favor, eh?”

Crowley stammered a little, unexpectedly and turned his gaze away. “Mine, uh, mine just had it so-”

“Nonsense! It’s my poor planning that got them in a state today with my outing. I won’t mess them up more. I’m not incompetant at it, my dear, just less practiced than you.”

“Al- Alright.”

“Excellent. Turn around then” Aziraphale said as he twirled his finger in a circle gesture. Crowley complied, hunching his shoulders and in on himself a little. Poor demon must feel uncomfortable. Hell wasn’t likely the touchy-feely sort, and it must have been so long since he allowed himself to be this vulnerable. Aziraphale was touched and committed to be as gentle and caring with his touches as he could. He took his time, working in the same order that Crowley had done on him, taking even longer than the demon had, even though his wings needed less done to them. He relaxed into it after a while, encouraging Aziraphale, who covertly tucked away any of the loose feathers that came out under his ministrations in the folds of his towel, intent on taking them home with him for his snuff boxes. 

“Do you use your own oil then, Crowley?”

He took a moment to reply, clearly pulling his mind from some deep reverie, speaking slowly. “Y- yeah, um. Never, uh... tried anything else.”

“Would you like to try it like I do? You can use the same oil you used on me. Or I have a lovely cinnamon bark and sandalwood oil at home that makes me think of you. I could miracle here for you to try?”

Crowley turned, face overly still as he contemplated Aziraphale, clearly searching for something, though the angel didn’t know what so he just waited, content. “Alright.” he said, quietly. 

“You’ll try it my way, then? And which scent did you want to try.”

Crowley turned back around, looking abashed. “Same as… Same.”

“Can I touch your gland then? You were kind to check with me, thought I’d return the favor.”

Crowley just nodded mutely and started to remove the towel at his waist that was covering it, laying it across his lap as Aziraphale had done. His ears were bright red as he did this, the poor flustered demon. He had no reason to be nervous, after all, as he was beautiful in all ways, inside and out, but it was adorable, though Aziraphale wouldn’t tell him that, lest it elicit a spate of hissing denials and grouchiness. His ribs and hip bones jutted out a bit prominently, but his back was smooth and sculpted, the skin almost glowing in the bright bathroom lights. If Aziraphale were to touch it, he would probably feel velvety smooth and it would be the highest of pleasures to caress him. 

Aziraphale started humming, a soft tune he liked from long ago, and mixed oils in with the demon’s gland on his very lower back, in the same place as an angel’s would be. He was careful and gentle with his touches to it as he set to work, humming the whole time. If he petted Crowley's feathers a bit more than strictly necessary, neither mentioned it or seemed to mind. 

When he decided he couldn’t draw it out anymore he mimicked Crowley’s previous pat and then stood up and started getting dressed. Again, Crowley watched him for a while, silent and still, before he shook himself, stood up, and snapped, his own outfit appearing on him fresh and clean. He left the bathroom first, and after Aziraphale finished and followed he found him hunched pensively and drinking what looked like a new bottle of scotch. 

They spent a while drinking and talking before the sun was up and Crowley suggested it was time to sober up and drive back to London. Aziraphale acquiesced, and the drive back was even more pleasant than the drive out had been, since there was this new feeling of closeness in the air, and Aziraphale savored it. His plan was everything he’d wanted it to be and more. They parted ways at the bookshop, leaving the demon to his own devices for the rest of the day while he planned to settle in his newest smuggled acquisitions.

\--------------------

The next morning - well afternoon, his phone corrected when he glanced at it - greeted Crowley with a stabbing ray of light right into his eyes. He rolled over, face down, with a groan. There were conveniences to not needing to breathe, and the ability to dramatically lie like a downed log with your face smothered in your pillow was one of them. As he lied there, swimming out of the fog of slumber, he thought back to the past few weeks, letting some of his favorite moments replay over and over again in his mind’s eye. 

He’d really been enjoying spending so much time with Aziraphale, helping him on this new project. They’d been together nearly every day for months at this point, but the last few days had been. Well. They had been  _ a lot _ . Crowley had memorized what Aziraphale’s soft body looked like naked, from multiple angles, as they’d spent several  _ hours  _ of time together,  _ naked _ . Aziraphale had been so unabashed. Just. He hadn’t even seemed to care as he had stripped in front of Crowley, making eye contact occasionally but never stopping, never slowing down or hesitating as he methodically pulled off every single item of clothing, one by one, revealing each plump curve. Like he’d been unwrapping a present just for Crowley and then, and  _ then _ , he’d had him running his hands through his feathers, all over his wings, shooting him coy over-the-shoulder glances as he’d worked. Telling him he was doing such a good job and thanking him and then, and  _ then,  _ anointing Crowley himself with his own scents and caressing him so slowly, so lovingly. The shadow sensations of those touches ran through him and he shivered.

Crowley’s wings popped out, spreading wide before he rolled over onto his back and wrapped them about him, covering his burning face with the ends. 

He took a deep breath, his first in quite a while, and the smell of  _ Aziraphale  _ filled his lungs. Oh, Lord, he could die from feeling like this. Demons were supposed to be cut off from love and grace but  _ this _ , it almost burned away at him from the inside out, filling him up in ways he never thought he’d be able to be filled. His face was hot and he fluttered his feathers, breathing in and out the scent of his… his…. Of the scent of Aziraphale. 

When they’d been laying on the beach together Crowley had thought,  _ This is it, this is everything _ , had been reminiscing about the impromptu aerial full-body hug he’d gotten when he’d finally caught his angel, and how much lighter he felt, body and soul, when they’d shared a laugh and slowly let each go of each other to resume their aerial dancing. Crowley had practically melted into that sand, become one with the earth in a demon puddle. He’d briefly even considered shifting to a snake to really soak up the heat, but hadn’t, in case Aziraphale suggested another game of flying tag, which would result in another embrace to add to his beloved collection of memories. 

But no. No, the angel had _ held his hand  _ and splashed at him playfully with his  _ bastard  _ little  _ smirk _ , had floated nearby so that their wings occasionally brushed up against one another in the waves, and  _ then  _ spent hours  _ naked  _ together  _ touching  _ and  _ oiling  _ each other’s  _ bodies _ . 

Crowley groaned and dragged his hands down his face. He had to stop running down that line of thought. That was the kind of thing that led to expectations, to hopes, and centuries of experience had told him not to wind those up. It was safer this way, better. Aziraphale would lead where he wanted to go; it was enough that Crowley was ready and willing to follow wherever that led, whatever the angel wanted. It would be enough. It had to be.

And if he was being honest with himself, lately, it unquestionably was. These last months of constant companionship had been so deeply fulfilling. He hoped this new project of Aziraphale’s took forever. He hadn’t mentioned the progress in his flat for a while now, so Crowley suspected it was nearly finished, but now he was talking about starting the renovating and redecorating in the bookshop. They both knew that would probably take even longer, seeing as it was larger and that any time Aziraphale attempted to clean or shuffle around his books he inevitably got lost in reading them. The constant diversions really slowed his progress. 

Crowley could potentially be in for this kind of treatment for the next year, easily, before that would be finished, if he kept offering to help. Which he would, obviously. He’d wait til tomorrow and if Aziraphale hadn’t called by then he’d go over, ask what he could help with. Couldn’t hurt to try and make a habit of visiting without being prompted. 

The problem was that when he did, the shop was closed and dark inside. He came in anyway, calling for Aziraphale but without a response. He lingered by the front door for a while, thinking he’d just popped out for a snack or a walk and would be back soon, but no show. 

He sulked about it before deciding he’d better just go do something else for a while, and call him tomorrow before coming by this time. 

_ I’ll leave a note, let him know I stopped by _ , he thought, and went over to Aziraphale’s desk. He knew he kept paper and a writing box in there, and so he opened the drawers and looked around. The first piece of paper he found was already written on, and he almost ignored it for that but his name caught his eye. He pulled it out and held it up to read. 

Splashed across the top of the page in Aziraphale’s ridiculously calligraphy was “What Crowley Wants”

“What the devil...” 

He read the whole thing, his eyes popping out more and more as he went and he sputtered and choked on nothing when he reached the last line, “sleeping together.” He lost his grip and the sheet fluttered to the floor and he left it there, as his knees felt a bit weak and he wasn’t willing to trust them with bending over at the moment. 

He sat hard into the chair behind the desk and stared at nothing, mind racing. 

“This whole time…  _ I’m _ his new project?” he whispered to the empty room. 

But what did that mean? Had he actually been doing renovations at all, or was it all an excuse to tempt him? He looked around the bookshop, seeing absolutely no changes. What if he really didn’t even do anything upstairs? Crowley had never been up there and the few times Aziraphale’d ever mentioned it he talked as if it was just storage. He never actually saw any of these new “purchases.” He glanced at the list, and picked it up to read it again. What was the point of these “Temptations to Try” even? What was he even driving at? Was it all just a game? Had he only been seeing how much he could get out of Crowley?

Even their trip had been, what, a project to try? Did any of it actually mean anything to the angel or was it all just him, a one-sided infatuation that the angel was testing?

Crowley’s chest hurt. He felt hollow and like he’d been punched in the gut. If he hadn’t found this, Aziraphale was planning on trying to tempt him into sleeping together. For what? Did he just want to see if he could? Had he ever… done that sort of thing already? Was he just curious or was it something he wanted from Crowley, specifically?

Would he want to, still? Crowley knew deep down it was something he’d always wanted to have, the unfathomable, pleasurable intimacy of knowing and being known, of sharing and delighting in each other's physical joys, but he’d  _ never  _ let himself dare think of it as a possibility. He could have it, apparently, if he kept playing dumb and just, let Aziraphale tempt him into it. And that sent a mess of thoughts and feelings boiling inside him. Was that what he wanted? Why did it hurt when he thought about it, then?

“I can’t deal with this. I’m just gonna…” and he slipped the list back where he found it and fled the shop, rushing back to the comfort and safety of his flat. 

Once there, he began pacing, trying to sort out the tangled mess inside him, but every new thought just sparked more mess. Before he realized it he was crying and in a state of panic and he didn’t even really know  _ why _ . He’d been so happy but now he was so confused and hurt and  _ grieving  _ maybe? Because Aziraphale was giving him what he wanted?

“Okay, enough thinking. You’re only making it worse off.” He scolded himself. It was time to just, not, anymore. 

There was one good thing for that. Sleeping. That would stop anymore thinking at all for a while, and feeling all those feelings was exhausting anyway. 

“That settles that, then. Goodnight, world!” and he burrowed into his bed, naked and sad, and used a miracle to put himself out.

\---------------------------------------

Aziraphale was, in fact, upstairs in his new flat the whole time, having decided to spend the night fussing with his new decor, shuffling his snuffboxes around and playing with their feathers, sliding a plant to the right, then back to the left, polishing his mirrors and such. He’d decided to call Crowley tomorrow and ask him to come over, now that it was done, and see if he’d like it. They’d christen his new wine and spirit collection and serving bar and talk of design and comfort. He’d ask him about every surface Crowley could sit or slither on, assess them, maybe try to get him drunk so he could offer up the use of his new bedroom, completely with demon approved mattress and pillows on the bed that Aziraphale had meticulously made that evening. He’d pulled one of his primaries for that, setting it onto the headboard like a ward of protection and then fretted over it’s exact placement, wanting everything to be perfect for his chosen companion. 

When dawn came he stopped his fussing and readied himself for a different meeting. His interior designer had referred him to a colleague for working on the shop, since they specialized in business design and that was apparently a different branch of the field that home styling. They’d arranged an introductory sit-down to pass him over for the next phase of his project, though he was in less of a hurry for this one, since he now suspected he could get Crowley to spend lots of time in his new nest of a home as it was, but it never hurt to have more excuses, and he had rather been enjoying the updates. 

The meeting was held in an upper floor of an office building, with high vaulted ceilings and gorgeous views that Aziraphale immediately hated, and he tried not to hold it against the new designer, who seemed like a perfectly lovely lady. It was a bit of a joykill, however, so he focused on his business and left as soon as possible, with strict instructions that any future meetings be held elsewhere. He wanted to be back home so he could call Crowley and move on to the part of his day he was most looking forward to. 

But unfortunately, Crowley wasn’t answering his phone. He tried a few times, just in case, calling both his home and cellular phone numbers, but to no avail. 

He sighed heavy sighs and moped about the shop, being particularly fiendish to his customers for the rest of the day.

And the next day, and a third, and a fourth. Though by then, he could no longer muster the energy to deal with customers, feeling very lonely and bereft by that point. He knew he was sulking, but he just felt… empty.

He remembered the words that the lovely man from the cat cafe had told him. 

_ “You don’t even know where the holes are until you do something or need something and then you brush up against it and it leaves you feeling so lost and empty.” _

And oh, that was exactly how he felt. There was a Crowley shaped hole in his life, and he just kept bumping into it wherever he went because he’d been spending so much time and effort trying to put Crowley into everything he did, so they could do it together. 

It was unbearable. 

It was time to track down a demon. 

He locked up the shop and first headed for Mayfair. The Bentley was parked in its usual car park, so Aziraphale went to Crowley’s flat, knocking on the door repeatedly. There was no answer. 

This made him worry, so he miracled the door open. Just to check, make sure everything was alright. He opened the door slowly, peeking his face in and calling out as loud as he could, “Crowley? It’s me. Are you home?”

There was no answer, so he stepped inside. Nothing looked out of place, so he entered, closing the door behind him. 

“Crowley? Where are you?”

He crept round the flat, unwilling to disturb anything since he was technically here uninvited, looking for any kinds of clues as to where the demon had gone.

And then he reached the bedroom, where there was a lump of blankets and pillow in the center of the bed with Crowley’s head sticking out. 

“Oh, thank the Lord, there you are!” Aziraphale whispered to himself, his hand coming up to his chest as he exhaled in relief. “My dear, I’m very worked up, you disappearing on me like that.”

Crowley didn’t stir. Wasn’t even breathing, really, at that. Crowley was sleeping especially hard. 

Aziraphale wrung his hands, unsure of what to do. He didn’t have permission _ , per se _ to be here, but also, the demon had previously offered, saying he could come over anytime and was always welcome. He didn’t want to take advantage, but now that he was here, with Crowley, even if he was just standing in a room with him while he slept, he felt a weight lifted from his heart. 

He supposed it couldn’t hurt, could it, were he to just… wait here. Crowley would wake up and then he’d apologize and the demon would say “ ‘S fine, angel” and wave him off while he sluggishly woke up. It would be adorable. 

Course of action chosen, Aziraphale settled on what he thought of as his couch, miracling several books over in order to prepare for a long wait. Crowley had likely been asleep this whole time, and when he got into one of his long naps it could be a while. 

Several days passed, and Crowley slept on. Aziraphale excused himself, telling Crowley’s sleeping form that he was just going back to the shop for a bit, since this looked like this would take a while, and then did so. It was a rather long errand, putting up a sign that the bookshop would be closed for the near future, postponing his appointments with his new interior designer, and pulling some new books to pass the time with at Crowley’s.

He’d had a vague hope that when he got back the demon would be up and about but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. 

More time passed, and although Crowley shifted in his sleep from time to time, he remained on the bed, huddled under the blankets. Aziraphale peeked in on him every few hours, and eventually when he became lonely again, moved his couch into the bedroom, so he could glance up and be reassured by the demon's presence. 

And then it had been more than two months of Aziraphale living at Crowley’s flat. He’d taken to chatting at the demon, hoping it would disturb his slumber, and had helped himself to many cups of tea and delivery services during his stay. It had made a bit of a mess, but Aziraphale was looking forward to being chided about it, and so hadn’t cleaned any of it up. 

And then, finally, it happened. Crowley groaned and rolled over, the most noise he’d made this entire time. Aziraphale marked his place in his book and set it aside, folding his hands in his lap. 

Crowley sat up, and Aziraphale felt a smile bloom on his face. He let it, as a similarly warm sensation bloomed in his chest. 

Crowley rubbed his eyes and blinked, looking about the room. When he finally noticed Aziraphale he jumped slightly. 

“Aziraphale?”

“Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

“Whut’r… What are you doing here?”

“Oh, well. I um… I hope you don’t mind, terribly, I’ve rather made myself at home. You see, you’ve been asleep for quite some time and I got worried, so I came to find you after a few days.”

“Days.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Days before I let myself in. I hope I wasn’t intruding, but I was very relieved to see that nothing had happened to you. I meant to wait for you in the other room, but well, the truth is that I got lonely and so I moved my couch in here after about a month.”

This shot the demon's eyebrows up nearly to his hairline. “Month?”

“Quite. We’re well into the fall, now.”

Crowley looked around, searching for something but Aziraphale had no idea what. It wasn’t like the time of year was obvious from inside a bedroom. The demon looked down at himself and flushed, then snapped, clothes suddenly making an appearance to his previously nude form. He pulled the covers off him now that he was dressed and swung his feet to the floor so he was sitting and facing Aziraphale. 

“You’ve been waiting, here, for months?”

“Yes, I’d thought I made that clear.”

“Why?”

“Well because I missed you.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. We’ve been spending so much time together, it was especially hard not to see you anymore.”

At this, for some reason, Crowley’s face fell.

“Your new project.”

“Well, yes, that’s been on hold, obviously, while you slept.”

Crowley frowned and turned away. Aziraphale’s brows knotted in confusion. 

“I… um…” Crowley said and then hesitated, fidgeting with his linens.

“Yes?” Aziraphale prompted.

“I found your list.” 

“What list?”

Crowley growled and flopped back down onto his bed. “The one in your desk. About me.”

“Oh.” That list. He’d forgotten he’d left it there, having done nearly everything on it at this point, he’d rather moved past needing his initial planning. 

Crowley laid there, unnaturally still, waiting for something, but Aziraphale had no idea what. 

“Was there a problem?”

That got him. The demon shot bolt upright, hissing and furious.

“Was there a problem?” he mockingly repeated. “Of course there’s a problem. I trusted you! And you’ve been toying with me like we’re just some sort of game! And using me for what, Aziraphale? Practice? Fun? Just a tease?” 

“I beg your pardon!” Aziraphale huffed, “I most certainly have done no such thing!”

“You’ve just been flexing your temptation skills, tricking me into outings and fake renovations just to see what you can get me to do. I saw the list! There it was, all planned out. Just you, ticking off boxes here and there as you had a lark with some faked ‘Temptations to Try’ on-”

“None of it was fake!” He jumped in, voiced raised.

“Well then why haven’t I seen anything come of it, eh?” Crowley yelled right back.

Aziraphale rushed to his feet, startling Crowley, and snapped. Suddenly, they both appeared in the bookshop, and Crowley, who had still been seated, now had nothing beneath him, so he crashed to the floor. Aziraphale smirked at that, but hid it before the cursing stopped and Crowley looked up at him. He stood with a snarl, but Aziraphale had regained his composure and instead just pointed to a door beside the one that led into the alley.

“After you.” Aziraphale said, cooly. 

Crowley swiveled and yanked the door open, revealing a set of stairs. He stomped up them, Aziraphale training behind. As his head broke into open space of the room at the end he froze, not even exiting the stairwell. 

Aziraphale waited a few beats and then piped up, “I’ll take my apology once you actually finish entering my flat.”

Crowley swiveled around to look at him, shock across his face, and took a few beats before he dragged himself up the last few stairs. Aziraphale came up behind him, but instead of standing around slack-jawed like Crowley on the landing, he went over to the glittering bar that took up half of one wall of his main room and poured two glasses of what Crowley claimed was his favorite whiskey. 

He returned to the demon and handed one of them off, took a slow sip of his and said, “I’m ready for you to take that back any time, my dear.” and then went to sit on his new slate grey armchair. 

It was a sight, even Aziraphale had to admit. The designer had done a magnificent job, selecting some very lovely crystalline lighting, and the chairs and couch Crowley and he had chosen blended well with the sharp lines of the plush geometric rug. Only one wall was lined with books, and the end tables had Crowley’s plants on them, happily thriving in their new home. There was a large fireplace, with the Bentley’s tire iron and Agnes nutter’s last prophecy safely framed on the mantle, with a large soapstone hearth and another basket with a cushion in it beside that, for snakes to curl up on. The window had a seat under it with yet another set of cushions for lounging, and a nook of books in it for reading. Off to the side you could see an excessively modern kitchen in all white and glass. It looked like a magazine. Aziraphale looked as inordinately proud as he felt. 

Crowley slowly stepped up to the other armchair, a sleeker black thing than the one Aziraphale had chosen. He set his drink down untouched on the end table and gently ran his finger along the back of the chair. “I picked this,” he said quietly.

“You did. It’s for you.”

Crowley shot him an unreadable look. 

Aziraphale chuckled, feeling a bit chagrined. “To be honest, most of this was for you. Well, for me  _ and  _ you.”

Crowley scrunched up his nose. “Why does it smell like I’ve been here before?”

And that flooded Aziraphale with embarrassment. He hid his face for a moment, trying to compose himself as he picked at his clothes. “I ah… well to explain that I suppose I have to… I have a confession to make.” He stood and walked past the bar to his snuff box display wall. “I’m afraid to say that over the years I’ve come into possession of a few of your feathers.” He opened the center box and withdrew its downy occupant, holding it up for Crowley to see. “I couldn’t bear to part with them so I’ve kept them with me, up here. I’ve, um, well you see I’ve managed to collect quite a few.”

“You kept them?”

“They’re very important to me. I hope you don’t mind.” He replaced the feather in its box.

Crowley shook his head slightly, an answer, though he was still looking around the room, lost in thought. “But… Why? Why all this? And the tempting? I don’t understand, Aziraphale.”

“Right, of course. Let me explain. I owe you that.”Aziraphale was afraid, but he had to just tell him. He smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his jacket and straightened his already straight tie. “Well you see, after we finished with all of that apocalypse business, I found myself a bit lost. And I didn’t know what to do with myself, without heaven telling me. Then I realized that I missed you, even when you’d only been gone for a few hours. So I thought to myself, well Aziraphale, you know what you want now, it’s time to do your best to get it.”

“What did you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

Crowley shook his head, frowning.

“You.”

Crowley’s lips parted in surprise and he sucked in a breath. Aziraphale gave a tremulous smile, his hands fidgeting with his cuffs. “And so then I um… well I remembered all your lessons on how to tempt creatures to get them to do what you want and so I, well you saw already. Everything I laid out was all so that I could spend more time with you. I thought that if I did it that way, I could give you what you wanted at the same time.”

“You wanted me.” Crowley’s bottom lip quivered as he spoke.

“Yes.”

“I wanted  _ you _ .”

Aziraphale’s hands dropped. “You did?”

Crowley nodded. “Of course I did. Do. I do. Ngk.”

Love flooded through Aziraphale, overpowering him. He gasped and a tear came to his eye. “Oh.”

Crowley moved as if to touch him, worry writ on his features. “This is all very nice, though. And I don’t think I’ve had a better day than when we went to the beach together.”

And at that, tears began to fall. Aziraphale sat down, overwhelmed. Crowley rushed over, kneeling in front of him, taking his hand and making soothing motions over the back of it. “I’m sorry, whatever I said, I take it back. Don’t cry.”

“No, no, dear. It’s not that. I’m… I’m happy. I just--” Aziraphale smiled at him, a big beaming thing he didn’t hold back in the slightest. “I love you.”

Crowley stilled, staring. His jaw worked and small noises came out. He cleared his throat, and turned away, clearly gathering himself. When he turned back and spoke it was barely above a whisper. “I love you too.”

“Oh Crowley!” And Aziraphale launched forward, out of his chair and into a massive hug, both of them kneeling on the carpet. It was awkward, their knees were bumped up together and his head smashed into the side of Aziraphale’s face, but it was also perfect and wonderful and everything he wanted. Too soon, Crowley drew back, settling back on his heels. 

“I liked that,” Crowley said. 

“The hug and not the crying bit, I presume?”

Crowley nodded.

“Then you’ll be glad to know that I’m up for repeat performances anytime you like.”

And with that, the soft little smile was back, and without his glasses on Aziraphale could see that it was accompanied with gentle eyes so full of love they glowed golden with it. Crowley leaned in and so they shared another embrace, a slower affair where Aziraphale cradled his demon in his arms, lingering in it until his knees started to ache. 

“My dear, as much as I’m enjoying this, which I am, we should probably move somewhere more comfortable than the floor.”

“Yeah, right, yeah.” Crowley extricated himself and stood, retreating a few steps and awkwardly patting his thighs. 

Aziraphale took his time standing up and straightening himself out when a thought occurred to him, “Oh you haven’t even seen it all yet, dearest! There’s the kitchen, and the bathroom, and oh you’ll like the shower. Plus the bedroom, which I’m hoping you like especially.”

Crowley went beet red and he stammered a bit before Aziraphale took him by the hand and led him off on a tour. 

“First, the kitchen. I was assured by my designer that you’d like a white kitchen too, and I like it better than yours, since it’s less dark and sad, but I think the things she did with glass are very inventive indeed. See, here’s an electric kettle for me and a fancy coffee maker for you.” Aziraphale pointed to things as he spoke, “And then through here you’ll see the bathroom! I made it extra spacious, in case we need to clean our wings again, and look!” He touched a panel on the wall and a 3 foot circle of the ceiling started to rain, with lights shining down with the water in various colors, making it sparkle against the white and black stone tiles. “Won’t this be perfect? Oh, I can’t wait to see you using this, it’s so gorgeous on it’s own. I had to leave in the toilet so they didn’t ask too many questions, but I had them hide it in this bench that we can use.” He pulled Crowley out and along with him to the last door in the hallway.

“Right and here we are, the last stop. The bedroom!” He opened the door with a dramatic flourish. Inside was a simple room, cozy. Again, one wall had a bookshelf, a dark walnut affair laden with books, but beside it was a matching wooden dresser, which on the opposite wall there was it’s twin with a potted plant on top, though that shelf was empty. The bed was massive, taking up the majority of the room and was an unusual size for beds nowadays. Aziaphale had to miracle the sheets he’d purchased just so they’d fit. “I hope it’s to your liking, as I’d wanted you to consider using it. I don’t sleep much, as you know, but I must say I appreciate your taste in bedding. The mattress in particular is soft and delightful.” 

Crowley turned from looking round the room to quirk an eyebrow at him, “I didn’t pick out a mattress.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to blush. “Ah. Actually, you did, you just don’t know that I, uh. Well I stole it. For you.”

“You stole it?!”

“Quite, yes. Remember the bed you miracled up during our stay at a hotel by the beach? Well, when you weren’t looking I-” he pantomimed a snap, “popped it back to the flat and made a new decoy in the hotel.” He looked down at his feet, feeling abashed. “I wasn’t sure how to make sure it would be a place you thought a luxury to sleep in, otherwise.”

Crowley started laughing, a clear, cheery thing that filled the room and echoed down the hallway. “Oh, angel, that’s fantastic. You  _ stole  _ it for  _ me _ .” He launched himself onto the bed, still laughing and rolled around. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Good! I’m glad.”

“You thieving bastard.”

“So you like it? And you’ll use it?”

Crowley sat up on his hand and knees and crawled across the bed till he was on the edge facing the door. He looked up at Aziraphale and smiled his biggest grin. “I like it. I like all of it. I’ll come over all you’d like to use your new flat.”

“That might be a bit much for you, dearest, but I’ll happily take what I can get.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it were completely up to me, I would want you here all the time. I always want to be together, but I’m sure that’s asking for a bit much.”

“You mean like, us live here? Together?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

Crowley climbed out of the bed and drew close, picking up Aziraphale’s hand in his own. “You really mean that?” Aziraphale nodded. “Then lets. Let's do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Your designer’s better than mine, anyway. I’ll have to come up with somewhere to put my plant room but… you’ve got all I could want here. You made anything you thought of that I would want…” Crowley visibly choked up. When he got himself together and managed to speak again, his voice was broken. “It’s everything I could have asked for and I didn’t even have to ask for a thing.”

With that Crowley lifted the hand he’d been holding and planted a soft kiss across Aziraphale’s knuckles. Aziraphale reached out with his other hand, caressing his demon’s cheek, and drew his face up till they were eye to eye. He drank in the soft expression and then slowly pulled Crowley’s face towards him, pressing a kiss to his bottom lip. Crowley inhaled and then relaxed into it, pressing his own kiss back. 

When they parted, Crowley drew him into another hug, this one tight, possessive, his face hidden against Aziraphale’s neck. It felt wonderful. He patted Crowley’s back, soothing him with gentle strokes where his wings were in the aether. They stayed there for a long while, Crowley seeming to need it. When Crowley finally drew back Aziraphale broke the silence.

“Would you care for a drink? Or perhaps to eat something? We can settle down in the front room for the evening, if you’d like.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more coming up in an epilogue, but it's safe to say that at this point "And they lived happily ever after" applies. I had to take breaks while writing this fluff to squee to myself, I expect the epilogue to be more of the same. 
> 
> My partner wants a new cat for the last chapter because this one didn't have one, but I'm on the fence if that's a good idea at this point or not.
> 
> I'm still laughing at the me who started this fic like "Oh it's a simple idea, it shouldn't be very long at all!" and here I am with triple the word count and being like, this needs MORE, ya? ya. I'm a verbose one.


	5. The care of snakes and demons

Crowley had spent the evening, and then the entire night, with Aziraphale in his new home. They talked a lot about Aziraphale’s decorating process, and Aziraphale had bubbled and cooed over all the little details he loved, made sure to point out all the places that he wanted Crowley to know about for lounging in various forms, and complained about the small bickerings with his designer he’d had. 

Crowley was jubilant. His body tingled from his scalp to toes with how happy and excited he was. He’d been enraptured by Aziraphale telling him all the things he’d done for him. For centuries Aziraphale had held him at arms length and now there was crowing about a specially ground scoop in the custom soapstone hearth so a very large serpent can bask in its radiant warmth over the winter. 

The cherry on top was that Aziraphale had  _ kissed  _ him. A soft, devout thing, a gentle press of affection to his mouth. And oh, it hit him like electricity, locking his body and overwhelming his senses. He’d gone weak in the knees, though he would never admit to such a pathetic reaction. It had made him cling to his angel a bit hard for a bit, while he gathered himself, but that had worn off, and now he’d catch himself swiping his finger across his lip and reliving the sensation, reigniting his bodily passions, and then he had to tamp them back down. Aziraphale hadn’t seemed interested in any further physical relations today and Crowley didn’t want to press his luck. Today had already been fast and a lot and he was terrified that any minute now Aziraphale was going to back away, as he always had before.

At 10 o’clock in the morning the antique clock chimed, Azirapahle pouted, and said “Oh dear. This has been great fun but I really should open the shop. It’s been closed for months.” He stood and straightened his waistcoat. “Is that alright by you, my dear?”

“Yup. Peachy. I’ll just,” he waved in a vague gesture, “do stuff.”

“I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything,” and with a parting smile he left. 

And like that, Crowley was left to his own devices in Aziraphale’s home. He slid off the couch and laid on the floor. This was how he discovered Aziraphale had a comfortable carpet that he would look forward to drunkenly passing out on another day. He stared up at the ceiling and considered his options. He could go home or work some demonic wiles about the city, but why waste this new opportunity for intrusive exploration? After all, Aziraphale had given him carte blanche to go anywhere and look at anything he’d like. What would he like to look at?

The feathers! 

Aziraphale had said he’d gotten quite a few, but how many was that? There were  _ dozens  _ of snuffboxes. He started opening them and froze when the second one he opened contained one of Aziraphale’s feathers. He took some time to smell and pet it, rubbing it against his lips before he kept going. All the little sets had one of Aziraphale’s feathers, and 18 had a matching one for Crowley. 

Crowley looked around, peeking down the stairs where the door was closed, and then pulled out his wings. He plucked new feathers, one to fill each box, and then closed them all back up as a smile pulled at his lips. There was something immensely satisfying in the action, as if he was christening his new home.

And wasn’t that a thought. Here was a home made just for him to live in by Aziraphale. For him. With Aziraphale. 

There was a tiny desperate noise, but it definitely did not come from him, because Cowley was not one of those disgusting love-sick gits. He was a demon who sowed chaos and discord. He laid back down on the floor and shifted to his most demonic snake form. The room looked a lot different from this angle, and not too unpleasant. Usually there was dust under people’s things, but not here, at least not yet. He slithered around, testing out the various spots Aziraphale had shown him, miracling a few cushions more firm. One basket he had to shrink himself by nearly a fourth to fit in, but it was rather cozy, in its own way. The hearth turned out to be a lovely cool place to rest, and he fit just fine even without having to shrink. He spent a while there before he started doing some more invasive exploring. Opening cabinets, looking for hidden compartments, safes behind pictures, that sort of thing. He didn’t find anything particularly interesting of Aziraphale’s; no hidden sex toys, or money stashes, or other embarrasing collections, which was dissapointing. Turns out there was also a disappointing dearth of hidden panels -- He’d have to change that. Can’t live in a place without at least a few hidden safes and bolt holes. He did find a tunnel under the bathroom sink that went down that he didn’t think Aziraphale even knew was there. It looked like the pipes needed it. He snaked down, coming out above a bookcase in the shop.

And this was fun, his own secret entrance. He shrunk down more, slithering about the bookshop in a way he’d never been permitted before, exploring its nooks and crannies. He found another tunnel, this one quite a bit larger and leading into the alley. It had been built into the bricks and foundation, and clearly had been there for a long time. A mystery. 

After a while he got bored and went up into the rafters, spying on Aziraphale at the front as he read and dealt with customers. The angel was engrossed in his work and hadn’t noticed him, which presented a fun opportunity.

He lined himself up and slowly lowered down from the rafter until he was right above the angel, only a few feet away. Oblivious, the angel kept reading. Suddenly, Crowley dropped down, landing right down into Aziraphale’s book, his tail flopping over his shoulder. 

Aziraphale jumped with a loud cry and Crowley snickered, which quickly changed to an all on laugh, a small huffy, hissing thing from his small snake body. 

Aziraphale settled back down, lips pressed to a thin line, “That was very naughty of you.”

“Demon.”

“Touché.”

And then Aziraphale picked him up and resettled him about his shoulder, draped like a loose scarf, and ran his hands down his scales,  _ petting  _ him. 

“My word, that is as lovely as I always imagined it would be. You’re so very sleek, my dear.”

“Nngk... Ssssssssss….” Crowley replied. 

“Have you been exploring as a snake today?” Aziraphale ran a knuckle under his chin and then down his body again. It sent shivers through Crowley.

“Yesssssss.” 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yessss.” The petting bit was definitely the highlight of his day. Month. Lifetime. 

“Good.” And Aziraphale gave him a final pat before returning to reading. 

Crowley adjusted himself, tightening his coils around his angel a bit and nuzzled his snoot against his angel’s neck. It was sublime. He couldn’t get enough. The armies of heaven and hell themselves would have to show up in order to pry him away. 

He spent the rest of the day there, and every time Aziaphale moved to turn the page he would give Crowley a pet before he put his hand down. If this was going to be normal now, the touching, the cuddles, the open bar of hugs and pats, Crowley fully intended to gorge himself on it, to make up for the last 6000 years of starvation. 

~~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale was content. Overjoyed really, nearly every day. Crowley had spent the three entire days with him at the bookshop and it’s adjoining flat, before he said he needed to go home to take care of his plants. He’d come back in the evening, after the bookshop closed, and was a bit on edge again, but quickly settled back into their comfortable closeness. A bit later he’d come back with a suitcase, snapping many other belongings of his over and filling up a good bit of bedroom storage, hung up his art there, and took over a desk and table. The bar was enlarged and had Crowley’s collection included, and a new staircase existed inside Crowley’s closet. He hadn’t offered to show Aziraphale, so what exactly was up those stairs remained a mystery, but Aziraphale didn’t begrudge the demon his privacy in their new shared living arrangement. 

An arrangement Aziraphale had been feasting on for months now. If Aziraphale wanted to sit together on the couch, all he had to do was pat the seat beside him and the demon would join him. If he wanted a hug, he’d just open his arms for one and voila! Crowley would come in for a hug. The demon had even napped with his head on Aziraphale’s lap one evening, and Aziraphale had run his fingers through that lovely red hair. 

No more overthinking about whether or not what he wanted was immoral or overstepping or dangerous. No more anxiety about what their superiors would do if they got caught. No more fear Crowley wouldn’t be interested and reject him. 

Crowley was just. There. For him. Whenever he wanted him. Well, barring the demon being too engrossed in some sort of bird noise discussion application on his phone or watching particularly engrossing television programming, or off doing whatever it was he felt like being out and doing. He’d been gone for most of that morning, as Aziraphale minded his shop, but Aziraphale was planning on cuddling on the couch that evening, and was looking forward to it. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley’s voice floated, indignant, from in the stacks. Apparently he’d come home through an entrance that wasn’t the front door. 

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale called back, not really paying attention. 

Crowley stomped over and huffed. “There is an  _ animal  _ in my bolt hole! Isn’t your shop warded against vermin?”

“Vermin? What are you on about?” Aziraphale removed his reading glasses and stood. What bolt holes? Had Crowley made additional modifications to the shop?

Crowley swiveled on his heel and flounced off, to the very back of the bookshop, where he gestured at the little cat hallway that led to the alley. 

Aziraphale bent over and peered down the hallway, where a kitten was hunkered halfway down, clearly terrified. “Oh, you poor dear.” He smiled and cooed, exerting a bit of angelic grace, and the kitten slowly inched out, till Aziraphale had safely extracted it. It was a very small thing, fluffy, but with a bit of mud caked to his belly, its eyes only newly opened and still with half floppy ears and stubby little baby tail. He held it gently in the crook of his arm and gave it a few pats. “Really Crowley, vermin? It’s just a harmless kitten. Nothing to ruffle your feathers over.” Crowley hissed. “Besides, that’s the cat hallway I had built in when the shop opened. It’s warded against insects and animals  _ other  _ than cats.” 

Crowley pouted, snapped one hand, then crossed his arms. Nothing appeared any different so Aziraphale didn’t ask what he’d miracled, just gave him a strong side eye, pressing his lips and making his disdain apparent.

“I’m going to go look for this one’s family. You can go about your business,” Aziraphale sniffed, and left.

First, he checked in the alley, peering around and listening for the mewls of other kittens, but found nothing and moved his search farther afield. After about an hour he remembered he hadn’t actually closed shop before leaving and returned to do so. He sat at his desk and manifested a bottle of cat’s milk, as the kitten had started mewling for food. 

The little baby was not sure what to do with a bottle at first, but with a little patient encouragement it latched on and began to nurse greedily. Another small miracle and it was clean and fluffy, it’s little brown stripes becoming more apparent without the dirt in the way. Aziraphale realized he was smiling, and had been for quite some time. 

“Working on a name for her, then? Expecting me to help.” Crowley said, and Aziraphale turned to see the demon leaning against a shelf, arms still crossed and looking miffed. 

“Why would I be doing that? I barely know her. How would we know enough to name her?”

Crowley paused before finally inquiring, “How is the interloper, then?”

“Better now, but I couldn’t find her family, poor dear. She’s just a baby, she can’t live alone.”

“Oh, so she is your pet now?” Crowley sneered.

Aziraphale huffed, “Of course not Crowley, I can’t take care of a baby. I can miracle up food, but how would I know what else a baby kitten needs? And in the long run, how would I teach her how to be a cat? I don’t know how to be a cat. No, she needs her family, or at the very least, a trained specialist.” 

There was a long pause, during which Crowley uncoiled a bit. 

“I, um... I ‘spose I’ll go sniff around some for them as well, then.” Aziraphale offered up a small smile, and Crowley nodded, “Right. I’ll … uh… be right back.”

The afternoon wore into evening. Aziraphale let the kitten crawl all over him and the desk. The kitten was rather rambunctious and had to be caught several times from taking a dangerous tumble off several surfaces, and retrieved before it burrowed into a stack of books Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could retrieve it from, a real turn around from its earlier trepidation. He’d manifested another bottle after a few hours, and once fed the little one had calmed down and napped on a handkerchief. 

When Crowley returned that evening, he had his hands in his pockets, acting excessively casual. 

“Snaked around. Sniffed ‘em out. You wanna…?”

And Aziraphales heart gave a flop and he felt his love for the demon radiating out as he smiled at him. He demurred a little, before giving a quiet, “Thank you, Crowley.”

Crowley blushed and looked away. “Nnyee.”

“Shall we?”

They left, kitten in tow, Crowley leading the way. The demon took them a few buildings over, where there was a nest wedged under a dumpster. The Queen was home and hissed at them. After Aziraphale set down the kitten nearby and then miracled away their presence, she settled down and eventually retrieved the kitten, putting him back with the others, where they all settled down in a big pile. Aziraphale watched for a while, enjoying himself, and didn’t notice when Crowley left. 

Aziraphale stood and dusted his trousers off, turning to say something to Crowley and was surprised when he found himself alone. He shrugged and left a blessing on the cat family for their continued health and safety. He’d bring them a fresh fish and check back on them tomorrow. 

When he returned home, Crowley was in his full sized snake form, his massive bulk curled up on the hearth, his head resting on top, glaring. 

“Thank you again, Crowley. You were a great help in returning that poor little dear to his family.” and he reached out, intending to pat Crowley on the head. Before he quite managed, Crowley shifted, returning to his humanoid form, also curled up on the hearth, cross legged and folded arms, still glaring. Aziraphale halted his hand and it hovered in mid air for a weak moment before he dropped it back to his side. This made Crowley glare harder, for some reason.

Aziraphale gave up, and went to his armchair. He had no idea what had so riled the demon. He waited, but Crowley didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Aziraphale sighed. 

Crowley stuck his bottom lip out. Grunted. Turned away. 

“What  _ is  _ the matter, Crowley? You’re acting very foolish.” 

With that Crowley hissed and shifted back to a snake, the hiss carrying through the entire transformation, and he slunk off, slithering into the bedroom. Aziraphale heard a door slam, and then quiet. He sighed again, even more deeply than the last, and got up to pour himself a glass of wine from the bar. 

He sipped, trying to think of what was the matter. Crowley had been upset at the unexpected intrusion of a ‘vermin’ in what he thought was his bolt hole and was mad when Aziraphale said it wasn’t made for him. That made sense, he’d been disappointed and unpleasantly surprised. But then later, he’d been even more upset when he saw Aziraphale playing with and feeding the ‘interloper’ baby. Crowley was worried Aziraphale would want to keep a kitten around and was making it very clear he didn’t want that. Why? Did he just really dislike cats? He’d never liked any of Aziraphale’s previous feline friends.

Aziraphale passed the night by himself and in the morning, Crowley was snaking around the rafters of the shop while it was open. He spent the next several days as a snake of various sizes, occasionally sidling up to Aziraphale or wrapping around him, but he didn’t speak or shift back to human-shaped. It left Aziraphale feeling a little lonely.

“Crowley dear?” He called, and his snake face peered down at him from on top of a nearby bookshelf. “I’m feeling a bit peckish, and have a certain cafe I haven’t been to in a while in mind. Would you go to lunch with me?”

There was a pause. “Yeah, sure.” Crowley replied, the first words he’d said in days. 

“Wonderful.” He stood up and moved to the door.

Crowley slid to the floor and shifted to human-shaped, miracling his sunglasses and putting them on, then thrusting his hands deep in his pockets. Aziraphale opened the door and motioned for Crowley to go first, so he did and Aziraphale locked up. 

“It’s well on the other side of town, which would be quite the walk. Are you feeling up for driving or shall we take other transport?” 

“I’ll drive.” 

They got into the Bentley and Aziraphale told him the name of the cat cafe, which he then looked up on a map using his smart cellular telephone and started driving, all silently. The quiet between them felt more awkward with a man-shaped Crowley, so Aziraphale found himself chattering away just to fill the air. 

“I first found this place purely by accident a few years ago. I was doing random good deeds and was drawn in by the nexus of love radiating out of it. The humans who visit there are so happy that it’s filled the space and lingers. So now I go from time to time when I want to bask in it. It’s like having a good hot bath, you know, to be around that much innocuous human love, for me. I know you can understand the pleasures of a good bask, seeing as how you do them all the time at home. But this also comes with cake and sandwiches and good tea. I know you, being a demon, can’t sense love anymore so I’m not sure you’ll enjoy it for the reasons I do, but they do have coffee and chocolate and I know you have enjoyed those, so hopefully you’ll approve of their quality levels as well. It wouldn’t do for you to not enjoy yourself. Just let me know if you aren’t having a good time. I won’t mind.”

Crowley grunted. 

Aziraphale gave him a weak smile and then started babbling about each of the different teas and foods he’d tried on his previous trips. He was still talking when they arrived, but trailed off, trying to surreptitiously gauge Crowley’s reaction. So far he’d seemed neutral, even after being given the name, which had “cat” right in it, and didn’t seem any different when they entered and were seated. Most of the kitty employees weren’t nearby, but Crowley glaced around with indifference, spending most of his attention on the menu. 

They ordered, and received their lunches without any negative reactions on Crowley’s part. Aziraphale relaxed and began to soak up the love, as well as enjoy his repast with his usual enthusiasm. Crowley watched, sipping at his fancy coffee that, when asked, was proclaimed “Acceptable.” By the time Aziraphale had finished his sandwich and moved on to dessert, the corners of Crowley’s mouth had begun to quirk up, and he was leaning forward on the table as per usual. 

They were interrupted by one of the ginger employee cats, who had sauntered over and was rubbing against their feet. Crowley merely looked at it, eyebrows raised. Aziraphale bent over and cooed over it, giving it a few pats and scratches by its tail before withdrawing. The cat, apparently satisfied, wandered off, and Aziraphale, after a glance at his demon, turned his full attention back to enjoying his cake. 

At no point did Crowley get upset by any of this. It was, all together, a completely uneventful outing. 

They drove back to the bookshop and Crowley wandered upstairs. Aziraphale reopened his shop and wandered aimlessly around it, puzzled. Crowley wasn’t affected at all by the cats, didn’t seem to mind one bit when one bunted his leg, or when Aziraphale had shown it affection. He clearly didn’t just dislike cats in general. 

Aziraphale decided to close shop early, bustling the few customers out with insincere apologies, and went up to their home. Crowley was sprawled on the couch, and jumped a bit as Aziraphale entered, clearly surprised by his early arrival. 

“Were you jealous of the kitten?” Aziraphale blurted out from the top of the staircase. 

Crowley’s face scrunched up. “What? What kitten?”

“The lost kitten from last week, that you helped me return to its family. Were you jealous of him? Is that why you are suking?”

“I’m not sulking!” Crowley scoffed, and he sat up, shuttering his body language. 

“You are! You’ve been sulking about for days as a snake, pouting and glaring and hissing at customers. I’m not complaining, mind you, but I’d rather not see you so upset.”

Crowley frowned.

Aziraphale sat on the other end of the couch from him. “I’d like to understand what's bothering you. I want to help. I don’t want to see you unhappy.” Crowley stuck his bottom lip out as he frowned harder. “And on a more selfish note, I’ve been a bit lonely, lately, with you as a snake.”

And that clearly surprised Crowley, making him drop his frown and loosen his posture. “You have?”

“Well, yes, of course I have. You haven’t been speaking to me, or joining me for dinner, or drinks, or all of the things we normally do together that I enjoy. I missed them. I even missed you talking about people from on that Tweeting application.”

“Twitter.”

“Yes, that.”

Crowley chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Please?” Aziraphale pouted.

Crowley seemed to deflate at that, flopping his head over the back of the couch and exhaling slowly and with a slight hiss. 

“I’m just. Settling… Here. I don’t want to share with another p… Don’t wanna share.”

Aziraphale blinked. Another what? He didn’t want to share? Aziraphale looked around his home and felt a wave of sadness as he realized, “It’s too small for you here. I shouldn’t have asked you to move in.” 

“No! No no no no no!” Crowley jerked up, reaching for Aziraphale and putting a hand on his knee, eyes wide and earnest. “That was good. This is good.”

“Is it? You’re happy here?”

“Yeah. Yes. Very happy, me.” 

“You’re not upset about sharing space?”

“No. No. Its…” Crowley ducked his chin and then shook his head, “not the space.” He blushed and fidgeted, looking at the floor before he continued, “I don’t wanna share, uh... you. Only just got you to myself.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale felt the demon's words hit him like a punch, if punches were pleasant. It knocked the air from his lungs, making him forget to breathe for a moment as his own love for the demon roared up in response. “You  _ were  _ jealous.”

Crowley scoffed. “At least grant me the dignity of calling me possessive.”

“My apologies.” Aziraphale smiled. “You were being a possessive demon.” 

“That’s right.” 

“Let me reassure you, you’d have nothing to fear from a little kitten, even were I to get some other animal companions.”

This didn’t reassure Crowley as he thought it would. Instead, he withdrew again, looking downcast. A confusing reaction, indeed. Had this been a year ago, Aziraphale would have left it at that, worried about crossing some invisible boundary he wasn’t aware of, or of prying too deep and angering Crowley. But it wasn’t, and he was used to just asking for what he wanted now, so without hesitation Aziraphale just blurted out, “Now why on earth does that upset you?”

“Doesn’t. Fine with it.” Crowley waved a hand, dismissive.

“Don’t lie to me Crowley, you’re clearly reacting like my holding you in higher regard than a kitten is a bad thing.”

“I said I’m fine with it because I’m fine with it. Why won’t you leave off?” 

“Fine with what, Crowley?”

“Being like that to you.”

“Like what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t think I do, Crowley.”

Crowley growled and flung his head backwards, covering his eyes with one hand and rubbing his temples. “Being another one of your ‘animal companions.’ ”

Aziraphale froze, mouth dropped open. He worked his mouth a bit before managing to force out, “You think you’re just… just  _ another pet  _ to me?” 

Crowley hadn’t moved, still hiding behind his hand. “Not exactly, obviously. You didn’t go out to dinner with your cats, or talk with them.”

“I talked to them, they just didn’t talk back.”

“My point exactly.”

“I  _ love  _ you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re best friends. It’s fine.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, will you look at me?” The demon made a distasteful face, heaved his own deep sigh, and rolled his head to the side, making eye contact. “Thank you, dear. I don’t look at you as a pet.  _ At all.  _ You are my precious companion, but it’s not the same as my cats, or anyone else who’s kept me company before. You are much,  _ much  _ more important to me than anyone, or anything, else. I value your companionship as… as a partner.”

Crowley pouted. “A partner in crime. That’s basically just The Arrangement, anyway.”

Aziraphale grew stern at that. “ _ No _ , Crowley.  _ Not  _ like a partner in crime. At least, not just that, recent deceptions with our old offices aside. As  _ a life partner _ .”

Crowley pouted bigger. There was a long pause, with some darting eye contact, before he spoke, barely audibly, “Then why don’t you ever… Why don’t you want to kiss me? Or do… other… stuff.” 

“I did kiss you!”

“One time! Barely! Just a peck! Months ago! Doesn’t count.”

“It counts!”

“Fine! A friendly kiss, one time.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together. “Why haven’t  _ you  _ kissed  _ me  _ then? Since we’re keeping score, I might only have one but you  _ certainly  _ have zero.”

“ _ You _ didn’t seem interested! Just seemed to want a bit of a cuddle here, a hug there. Chaste angel!” They glared at each other for a moment before Crowley caved, turning away and frowning, “ ...Didn’t want to push for more, turn you off me again.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “Don't be ridiculous. I thought we were past hiding what we wanted from each other. And I'm interested! It… it just hasn't occurred to me to kiss you. It's not really something I've done before, so I don't think to do it." 

“You’ve not kissed before?”

“I have. In- in greeting.”

“That’s it?”

Aziraphale blushed. “No need to rub it in.”

“Right. Right… but you are… interested?”

Aziraphale straightened out, turning to face his demon full on, leaning towards him. “Oh my, yes. I’m interested in all sorts of outlets for affection. I have quite a lot of love for you and I’d like to explore all the avenues of sharing it with you, physical and otherwise, that exist.” 

It was Crowley's turn to blush, as he choked on nothing and coughed. “All the… A-all the avenues?”

Aziraphale suppressed a smirk, enjoying watching him struggle. It was fun to rile him up and watch him be flustered. He’d have to remember to do that more often. On that note, he scooted closer, so that his knees were pressing against Crowley’s thigh. 

“Yes, quite.  _ All  _ of them. Did you have something particular in mind? Perhaps something… Physical?” Aziraphale purred.

“Ngk.”

Aziraphale grinned, and leaned in. Crowley watched, eyes roaming about Aziraphales face, landing at his lips. Aziraphale took his time, drinking in his demon’s reaction, the small huffing breath, the wide blown pupils, the hesitant dart of a tongue to lips, before he finished leaning in and pressed their lips together. 

It started as soft and delicious as their first, a gentle thing. Then Crowley pulled back and Aziraphale felt a disappointed tsk fall from him before he could think to muffle it. Crowly stopped and smiled, and Aziraphale chased his lips. When they met again, Crowley shifted his angle and their kissing took on a more desperate press, a slick slide of flesh against flesh as Crowley moved. It was quite lovely, and Aziraphale tried to copy the motions, to learn and join in, add to the fun. It felt wonderful, and Aziraphale was a quick learner in pleasurable pursuits. He darted his tongue out, flicking Crowley’s plush bottom lip and the demon shuddered, to which Aziraphale gave a happy hum and moved to press a kiss where he’d licked. Crowley leaned into it, seemingly forlorn with this small withdrawal, so Aziraphale sucked slightly, pulling the demon's bottom lip in and biting it gently.

Crowley moaned. Aziraphale pulled back, gorging himself on the slack faced ecstasy writ on his love’s face. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that,” said Aziraphale. 

“What, kissing? You really did like that?” Crowley smiled, a beatific and open thing that went straight into Aziraphale’s chest.

Aziraphale reached out, cradling his demon’s face in his palms. 

“No.”

Crowley’s brows wrinkled. “No?”

Aziraphale kissed him, quick pecks to his forehead and cheeks, then slid his hands back, so one was tangled in the short hair on the back of his head, the other gently resting by his ear. He leaned in, ghosting his breath across his demon’s cheek and ear as he whispered, “Not the kissing.” He firmed his grip on Crowley’s hair and gently pulled, moving his head back to expose the line of his neck, and then scratched one polished, manicured finger down the line of his throat, barely pressing the cord of muscle as it led to his collarbone. Crowley whimpered. Aziraphale hooked his finger under the collar of Crowley’s jacket and pulled him forward again, moving his mouth back to resume their kissing as he held Crowley still by his hair. Crowley groaned and eagerly followed his lead.

When Aziraphale released his grip on Crowley and pulled away his demon was panting, breathless, earning a small giggle from Aziraphale. 

“You said you’d never kissed before.” Crowley’s voice was airy.

“I haven’t.” He leaned back in and pressed a kiss to the underside of Crowley’s jaw. He opened his mouth, sucking and biting a little, eliciting another one of Crowley’s delicious moans. Spurred on, he kept going, sucking bruises in a trail he’d laid with his finger earlier, pressing his teeth in small love bites.

“I find that hard to believe,” Crowley gasped.

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “I’ve read books.”

Crowley pulled back to level a stare and said, flatly, “Books.”

“They’re very descriptive. Besides, I’ve been on earth as long as you have. I’ve seen things, many things, even if I haven’t participated in them. Yet.”

Crowley quirked an eyebrow. “Yet?”

“Indeed.”

~~~~~~~~~

Crowley was content. Overjoyed really, nearly every day. They had spent several days cooped up in their home, exploring various avenues of “expressing affection” as Aziraphale called it, and it had been terrifically, sinfully indulgent. At first, Crowley had been hesitant, afraid Aziraphale would find his urges and desires disgusting and impure, but instead the angel had leaned into them with the same enthusiasm he had for trying new foods and restaurants. Aziraphale had always been a hedonist, it shouldn’t have surprised Crowley that he’d turn out to be a sensualist as well, even though Crowley had always thought of himself as the more libertine of them. 

Crowley was starting to feel like a delicious dessert, with the way Aziraphale had taken to looking at him sometimes, like he was salivating over the thought of devouring him. Crowley rarely felt the need to go to the brooding room he’d miracled onto the roof, a dark concrete box of a room full of his souvenirs and throne. He’d stopped feeling bitter when he saw his statues as he passed through it on the way to his greenhouse. His new plants were growing well, now that he’d decided to grow things that flower here, with all the sunlight access. He was looking forward to feeding Aziraphale the fruits of his labor. 

Today he had tied some fifty pound notes to invisible strings, and was letting them blow around the street below, just out of passerby’s reach, jerking them by the string if someone got too close to catching it. Fishing for greed. It was hilarious. 

Aziraphale had been rather insistent on making sure Crowley knew to ask for anything he wanted, and that if they were on their own side now, then they were going to love and support one another as much as possible. Crowley had been dubious, but so far it had been going miraculously well. He’d even asked about trying the weirdest fetish he could plausibly claim interest in and Aziraphale had been so bright-eyed and enthusiastic when he acquiesced to trying, Crowley had almost fallen over. Walking back that particular request as a joke had been harder than proposing it, as Aziraphale had been insistent they try anything, so he’d had to come up with a different thing to try instead to put him off it. Turned out shibari was more interesting than he’d thought, when it involved Aziraphale. 

It had rather cemented the point though, and Crowley was feeling very free indeed. He checked his watch, it was 4:45, almost time for their plans to go out for dinner. He reeled in his 50 pound notes and went back inside, down to the shop. 

Airaphale was talking rather animatedly with some human at the front desk, and smiled at Crowley as he drew up.

“Oh, is this your husband, Mr Fell?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, this is my life partner, Anthony J. Crowley. Crowley, this is Elliot Deveraux, a rare book dealer who helps me with purchases from time to time.” Crowley nodded. “He’s helping me dig up a copy of my… of handwritten medieval bibles.”

“Lovely to finally meet you. Mr. Fell speaks highly of you.”

Aziraphale blushed. “I’ll be finished up in a second, dearheart, and then I’ll close shop.” He turned back to Mr. Deveraux. “We have dinner plans.”

Aziraphale finished his transaction and escorted Mr. Deveraux out, waving. 

“Handwritten medieval bibles?” Crowley teased. 

“I, um. Well I was feeling nostalgic and felt like digging up some of my old manuscripts, seeing if some were still around. Mr. Deveraux has been most helpful. He’s found several from the time period, but sadly none that I worked on.”

“If you can’t find one, let’s forge a fake. Confuse some antiquities dealers.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Come one, it’ll be fun. We’ll sell it to some billionaire. I won’t even put a curse on it.”

“We’ll see. What’s gotten you so demonically feisty?”

“I love it when you lie to the humans. Makes me want to get up to no good with you.”

“I did no such thing!”

“We’re not married, angel.”

“I never said we were. It’s not my fault humans think life partners means we’re married.”

“Like I’d enter into the bonds of ‘holy matrimony!’ “ Crowley exaggeratedly gagged. 

Aziraphale laughed. “No, but you’ll happily enter into another bondage.” Crowley sputtered, and Aziraphale continued. “Anyway, the humans just call it that, we both know there’s nothing holy about the institution. We could just as easily be married in an unholy ceremony, as far as  _ anyone  _ is concerned.” Aziraphale lit up. “Oh, did you want to? Is this one of your hidden desires again? I’m more than willing if you’d like to.”

Loving Aziraphale as hard as he did hurt sometimes, and now was one of those times. It was like his demon body could barely contain the outpouring of love from the two of them.

“Ehn. Maybe one day. See what all the fuss is about. I like lying about it now, though, let’s keep that up. Wanna get rings? Really lean into the deception.”

Aziraphale laughed. “That sounds lovely, you wiley serpent.” He pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Ready for dinner?”

Crowley held the door open and they headed out. Later that night, Crowley kissed him in the Bentley, and then Aziraphale read in bed while watching Crowley sleep like he does most nights. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray! And they lived happily ever after! The kitten in this chapter does indeed get angel-delivered fresh fish for the whole family for a few months before they are grown enough to get kicked out of the nest and go off to live their alley cat lives, which, thanks to Aziraphale's blessing, are long and healthy affairs. They are sweet and so get befriended by an old lady who lets them live on her porch and eventually adopts our kitten and her sister and names them Tiger and Cocoa. 
> 
> Part of me wants to write the most PWP follow up because I was sweating hard trying to keep the T-rating this time. Aziraphale shines with innocent, ace eyes, and it is deceptive. Crowley is so not ready for what's coming for him. Aziraphale has read so many books. But the other part of me has TWO other WIP that are both very E-rated and has a strong drive to finish those. I am apparently a rare writer who finishes stuff before moving on. 
> 
> Anyway, if you liked this please leave a comment! I am thirsty for validation!


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